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VITTORIA 


popular  2Stittton 

OF 

GEORGE  MEREDITH'S  WORKS. 

Each  Novel  vf'M  be  complete  in  One  Volume. 
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DIANA   OF    THE   CROSSWAYS. 
THE   ORDEAL   OF    RICHARD   FEVEREL. 
EVAN    HARRINGTON. 
SANDRA  BELLONI. 
HARRY    RICHMOND. 
VITTORIA. 
RHODA   FLEMING, 
BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER. 
THE   EGOIST, 

THE  SHAVING  OF  SHAGPAT,  AND  FARINA. 
* 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers. 


PR 

V  I  T  T  O  R  I  A  ^  _ 


BY 

GEORGE    MEREDITH 


AUTHOR'S     EDITION 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1889 


Presswork  by  John  Wilson  and  Sun, 
University  Press. 


CONTENTS, 


CFAP. 

PAGB 

I. 

UP  MONTE  MOTTERONB   .            4           j           < 

1 

II. 

ON  THE  HEIGHTS  .            4            . 

1 

7 

III. 

SIGNORINA  VITTORIA        .           , 

.    15 

IV. 

AMMIANl's  INTERCESSION           . 

,    24 

T. 

THE  SPY          .            .            .            t 

.    31 

VI. 

THE  WARNING         ,           4 

.    40 

VII. 

BARTO  RIZZO            <           v           « 

.    45 

VIII. 

THE  LETTER             *            ,            . 

.    56 

IX. 

IN  VEKONA    .            ,            ,            . 

63 

X. 

THE  pope's  MOUTH           *            , 

76 

XI. 

LAURA  PIAVENI        .            ,            . 

91 

XII. 

THE  BRONZE  BUTTERFLY           , 

102 

XIII. 

THE  PLOT  OF  THE  SIGNOR  ANTONIO 

111 

XIV. 

AT  THE  MAESTRO'S  DOOR 

121 

XV. 

AMMIANI  THROUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT  . 

.  134 

XVI. 

COUNTESS  AMMIANI 

,  146 

XVII. 

IN  THE  PIAZZA  d'aRMI    . 

.  153 

XVIII. 

THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  FIFTEENTH           < 

.  160 

XIX. 

THE  PRIMA  DONNA             .           « 

.  167 

XX. 

THE  OPERA  OF  CAMILLA             « 

,  176 

VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP, 

XXI. 

XXII, 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 


XXXIII. 


XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XLl. 

XLII, 


THE  THIRD  ACT      .  .  .  k 

WILFRID  COMES  FORWARD         .  , 

FIRST  HOURS  OP  THE  FLIGHT 

ADVENTURES  OP  VITTORIA  AND  ANGELO 

ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS 

THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS  ,  ,  . 

A  NEW  ORDEAL        .... 

THE  ESCAPE  OP  ANGELO 

EPISODES    OP    THE     REVOLT    AND    THE    WAR. THE 

TOBACCO  RIOTS. — RINALDO  GUIDASCARPI 

EPISODES  OF  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. THE    FIVE 

DAYS  OP  MILAN 

EPISODES  OP  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. — VITTORIA 
DISOBEYS  HER  LOVER  

EPISODES    OP    THE    REVOLT    AND     THE     WAR.  THE 

TREACHERY  OP  PERICLES. THE  WHITE  UMBRELLA. 

THE  DEATH  OF  RINALDO  GUIDASCARPI 

EPISODES    OF    THE    REVOLT    AND    THE    WAR. COUNT 

KARL  LENKENSTEIN. THE  STORY  OP  THE  GUIDA- 
SCARPI.  THE  VICTORY  OF  THE  VOLUNTEERS 

EPISODES  OP  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. THE  DEEDS 

OP  BARTO  RIZZO. THE  MEETING  AT  ROVEREDO       . 


CLOSE  OP  THE  LOMBARD  CAMPAIGN. — VITTORIA 

PLEXITY  . 
A  FRESH  ENTANGLEMENT 
ON  LAGO  MAGGIORE 
VIOLETTA  d'iSORELLA      . 
ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN  . 
THROUGH  THE  WINTER  . 
THE  INTERVIEW      . 
THE  SHADOW  OP  CONSPIRACY 


S  PER- 


PAGH 

190 
203 
208 
218 
227 
240 
254 
274 

292 

307 

322 

331 

348 

358 

365 
376 
384 
394 
406 
421 
438 
443 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAP.  RAGK 

XLIII.  THE  LAST  MEETING  IN  MILAN  ....  454! 
XLIV.  THE  WIFE  AND  THE  HUSBAND  ....  462 
XLV.  SHOWS  MANY  PATHS  CONYERGING  TO  THE  END  .  .  469 
XLVI.  THE  LAST  ,,•.....  490 
EPlLOGUfi 499 


VITTORIA. 


CHAPTER  I. 


UP   MONTE   MOTTERONE. 


From  Monte  Motterone  you  survey  the  Lombard  plain. 
It  is  a  towering  dome  of  green  among  a  hundred  pinnacles 
of  grey  and  rust-red  crags.  At  dawn  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  has  an  eagle  eye  for  the  far  Venetian  boundary 
and  the  barrier  of  the  Apennines ;  but  with  sunrise  come 
the  mists.  The  vast  brown  level  is  seen  narrowing  in  ;  the 
Ticino  and  the  Sesia  waters,  nearest,  quiver  on  the  air  like 
sleepy  lakes ;  the  plain  is  engulphed  up  to  the  high  ridges 
of  the  distant  Southern  mountain  range,  which  lie  stretched 
to  a  faint  cloud-like  line,  in  shape  like  a  solitary  monster  of 
old  seas  crossing  the  deluge.  Long  arms  of  vapour  stretch 
across  the  urn-like  valleys,  and  gradually  thickening  and 
swelling  upward,  enwrap  the  scored  bodies  of  the  ashen- 
faced  peaks  and  the  pastures  of  the  green  mountain,  till  the 
heights  become  islands  over  a  forgotten  earth.  Bells  of 
herds  down  the  hidden  run  of  the  sweet  grasses,  and  a  con- 
tinuous leaping  of  its  rivulets,  give  the  Motterone  a  voice  of 
youth  and  homeliness  amid  that  stern  company  of  Titan- 
heads,  for  whom  the  hawk  and  the  vulture  cry.  The  storm 
has  beaten  at  them  until  they  have  got  the  aspect  of  the 
storm.  They  take  colour  from  sunlight,  and  are  joyless  in 
colour  as  in  shade.  When  the  lower  world  is  under  pushing 
steam,  they  wear  the  look  of  the  revolted  sons  of  Time,  fast 
chained  before  scornful  heaven  in  an  iron  peace.  Day  at 
last  brings  vigorous  fire  ;  arrows  of  light  pierce  the  mist- 
wreaths,  the  dancing  draperies,  the  floors  of  vapour ;  and  the 

B 


2  VITTOEIA. 

mouBtain  of  piled  pasturages  is  seen  with  its  foot  on  the 
shore  of  Lago  Maggiore,  Down  an  extreme  gulf  the  full 
sunlight,  as  if  darting  on  a  jewel  in  the  deeps,  seizes  the 
blue-green  lake  with  its  isles.  The  villages  along  the 
darkly- wooded  borders  of  the  lake  show  white  as  clustered 
swans  ;  here  and  there  a  tented  boat  is  visible,  shooting  from 
terraces  of  vines,  or  hanging  on  its  shadow.  Monte  Boscero 
is  unveiled ;  the  semicircle  of  the  Piedmontese  and  the  Swiss 
peaks,  covering  Lake  Orta,  behind,  on  along  the  Ticinese 
and  the  Grisons,  leftward  toward  and  beyond  the  Lugano 
hills,  stand  bare  in  black  and  grey  and  rust-red  and  purple. 
You  behold  a  burnished  realm  of  mountain  and  plain 
beneath  the  royal  sun  of  Italy.  In  the  foreground  it  shines 
hard  as  the  lines  of  an  irradiated  Cellini  shield.  Farther 
away,  over  middle  ranges  that  are  soft  and  clear,  it  melts, 
confusing  the  waters  with  hot  rays,  and  the  forests  with 
darkness,  to  where,  wavering  in  and  out  of  view  like  flying 
wings,  and  shadowed  like  wings  of  archangels  with  rose  and 
with  orange  and  with  violet,  silver-white  Alps  are  seen. 
You  might  take  them  for  mystical  streaming  torches  on  the 
border-ground  between  vision  and  fancy.  They  lean  as  in  a 
great  flight  forward  upon  Lombardy. 

The  curtain  of  an  early  autumnal  morning  was  every, 
where  lifted  around  the  Motterone,  save  for  one  milky  strip 
of  cloud  that  lay  lizard-like  across  the  throat  of  Monte 
Boscero  facing  it,  when  a  party  of  five  footfarers,  who  had 
met  from  different  points  of  ascent  some  way  below,  and 
were  climbing  the  mountain  together,  stood  upon  the  cropped 
herbage  of  the  second  plateau,  and  stopped  to  eye  the  land- 
scape ;  possibly  also  to  get  their  breath.  They  were  Italians. 
Two  were  fair-haired  muscular  men,  bronzed  by  the  sun  and 
roughly  bearded,  bearing  the  stamp  of  breed  of  one  or  other 
of  the  hill-cities  under  the  Alps.  A  third  looked  a  sturdy 
soldier,  square-set  and  hard  of  feature,  for  whom  beauties  of 
scenery  had  few  awakening  charms.  The  remaining  couple 
were  an  old  man  and  a  youth,  upon  whose  shoulder  the 
veteran  leaned,  and  with  a  whimsical  turn  of  head  and  eye, 
indicative  of  some  playful  cast  of  mind,  poured  out  his 
remarks  upon  the  objects  in  sight,  and  chuckled  to  himself, 
like  one  who  has  learnt  the  necessity  to  appreciate  his  own 
humour  if  he  is  disposed  to  indulge  it.  He  was  carelessly 
wi-apped  about  in  long  loose  woollen  stuff,  but  the  youth  was 


UP  MONTE  MOTTERONB.  3 

dressed  like  a  Milanese  cavalier  of  tlie  first  quality,  and  was 
evidently  one  who  would  have  been  at  home  in  the  fashion- 
able Corso.  His  face  was  of  the  sweetest  virile  Italian 
beauty.  The  head  was  long,  like  a  hawk's,  not  too  lean,  and 
not  sharply  ridged  from  a  rapacious  beak,  but  enough  to 
show  characteristics  of  eagerness  and  promptitude.  His 
eyes  were  darkest  blue,  the  eyebrows  and  long  disjoining 
eyelashes  being  very  dark  over  them,  which  made  their 
colour  precious.  The  nose  was  straight  and  forward  from 
the  brows ;  a  fluent  black  moustache  ran  with  the  curve  of 
the  upper  lip,  and  lost  its  line  upon  a  smooth  olive  cheek. 
The  upper  lip  was  firmly  supported  by  the  under,  and  the 
chin  stood  freely  out  from  a  fine  neck  and  throat. 

After  a  space  an  Austrian  war-steamer  was  discerned 
pufiing  out  of  the  harbour  of  Laveno. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Carlo,  thou  son  of 
Paolo,  we  will  stump  upward  once  more.  Tell  me,  hulloa, 
sir!  are  the  best  peaches  doomed  to  entertain  vile,  domici- 
liary, parasitical  insects  ?  I  ask  you,  does  nature  exhibit 
motherly  regard,  or  none,  for  the  regions  of  the  picturesque  ? 
None,  I  say.  It  is  an  arbitrary  distinction  of  our  day.  To 
complain  of  the  intrusion  of  that  black-yellow  flag  and  foul 
smoke-line  on  the  lake  underneath  us  is  prepostei-ous,  since, 
as  you  behold,  the  heavens  make  no  protestation.  Let  us  up. 
There  is  comfort  in  exercise,  even  for  an  ancient  creature  such 
as  I  am.  This  mountain  is  my  brother,  and  flatters  me  not 
—I  am  old." 

"  Take  my  arm,  dear  Agostino,"  said  the  youth. 

"  Never,  my  lad,  until  I  need  it.  On,  ahead  of  me,  goat ! 
chamois  !  and  teach  me  how  the  thing  used  to  be  done  in  my 
time.  Old  legs  must  be  the  pupils  of  young  ones  ; — mark 
that  piece  of  humility,  and  listen  with  respectfulness  to  an 
old  head  by-and-by." 

It  was  the  autumn  antecedent  to  that  memorable  Spring 
of  the  gi-eat  Italian  uprising,  when,  though  for  a  tragic 
issue,  the  people  of  Italy  first  felt  and  acted  as  a  nation,  and 
Charles  Albert,  called  the  Swoi-d  of  Italy,  aspired,  without 
comprehen-jion  of  the  passion  of  patriotism  by  which  it  was 
animated,  to  lead  it  quietly  into  the  fold  of  his  Piedmonteso 
kingship. 

There  is  not  an  easier  or  a  pleasanter  height  to  climb  than 
the  Motterone,  if,  in  Italian  heat,  you  can  endure  the  disap- 

b2 


4  VITTORIA. 

pointment  of  seeing  the  summit,  as  you  ascend,  constantly 
flit  away  to  a  farther  station.  It  seems  to  throw  its  head 
back,  like  a  laughing  senior  when  children  struggle  up  for 
kissings.  The  party  of  five  had  come  through  the  vines 
from  Stresa  and  from  Baveno.  The  mountain  was  strange 
to  them,  and  they  had  already  reckoned  twice  on  having  the 
topmost  eminence  in  view,  when  reaching  it  they  found 
themselves  on  a  fresh  plateau,  traversed  by  wild  water- 
courses, and  browsed  by  Alpine  herds ;  and  again  the  green 
dome  was  distant.  They  reached  the  highest  chalet,  where 
a  hearty  wiry  young  fellow,  busily  employed  in  making 
cheese,  invited  them  to  the  enjoyment  of  shade  and  fresh 
milk.  "  For  the  sake  of  these  adolescents,  who  lose  much 
and  require  much,  let  it  be  so,"  said  Agostino  gravely,  and 
not  without  some  belief  that  he  consented  to  rest  on  behalf 
of  his  companions.  They  allowed  the  young  mountaineer  to 
close  the  door,  and  sat  about  his  fire  like  sagacious  men. 
When  cooled  and  refreshed,  Agostino  gave  the  signal  for 
departure,  and  returned  thanks  for  hospitality.  Money  was 
not  offered  and  not  expected.  As  they  were  going  forth  the 
mountaineer  accompanied  them  to  the  step  on  the  threshold, 
and  with  a  mysterious  eagerness  in  his  eyes,  addressed 
Agostino. 

"  Signore,  is  it  true  ? — the  king  marches  ?  " 

"  Who  is  the  king,  my  friend  ?  "  returned  Agostino.  "  If 
he  marches  out  of  his  dominions,  the  king  confers  a  blessing 
on  his  people  perchance." 

"  Our  king,  signore  !  "  The  mountaineer  waved  his  finger 
as  from  I^ovara  toward  Milan. 

Agostino  seemed  to  awaken  swiftly  from  his  disguise  of 
an  absolute  gravity.  A  red  light  stood  in  his  eyeballs,  as  if 
upon  a  fieiy  answer.  The  intemperate  fit  subsided.  Smooth- 
ing down  his  mottled  grey  beard  with  quieting  hands,  he 
took  refuge  in  his  habitual  sententious  irony. 

"  My  friend,  I  am  not  a  hare  in  front  of  the  king,  nor  am 
I  a  ram  in  the  rear  of  him  :  I  fly  him  not,  neither  do  I  propel 
him.  So,  therefore,  I  cannot  predict  the  movements  of  the 
king.  Will  the  wind  blow  from  the  north  to-morrow,  think 
you?" 

The  mountaineer  sent  a  quick  gaze  up  the  air,  as  to  descry 
signs. 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  Agostino  continued,  though  not  playing 


UP  MONTE  MOTTERONE.  5 

into  the  smiles  of  his  companions  ;  "  the  wind  will  blow 
straight  thither  where  there  is  a  vacuum ;  and  all  that  we 
can  state  of  the  king-  is,  that  there  is  a  positive  vacuum  here. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  predict  the  king's  movements  save  by- 
such  weighty  indications." 

He  laid  two  fingers  hard  against  the  rib  which  shields  the 
heart.  It  had  become  apparently  necessary  for  the  speaker 
to  relieve  a  mind  surcharged  with  bile  at  the  mention  of  the 
king ;  for,  having  done,  he  rebuked  with  an  amazed  frown 
the  indiscretion  of  Carlo,  who  had  shouted,  "  The  Carbonaro 
king  !  " 

"  Carlo,  my  son,  I  will  lean  on  your  arm.  On  your  mouth 
were  better,"  Agostino  added,  under  his  voice,  as  they  moved  on. 

"  Oh,  but,"  Carlo  remonstrated,  "  let  us  trust  somebody. 
Milan  has  made  me  sick  of  late.  I  like  the  look  of  that 
fellow." 

"  You  allow  yourself,  my  Carlo,  an  immense  indulgence  in 
permitting  yourself  to  like  the  look  of  anything.  Now, 
listen — Viva  Carlo  Alberto!  " 

The  old  man  rang  out  the  loyal  salutation  spiritedly,  and 
awoke  a  prompt  response  from  the  mountaineer,  who  sounded 
his  voice  wide  in  the  keen  upper  air. 

"  There's  the  heart  of  that  fellow  !"  said  Agostino.  "  He 
has  but  one  idea — his  king !  If  you  confound  it,  he  takes 
you  for  an  enemy.  These  free  mountain  breezes  intoxicate 
you.  You  would  embrace  the  king  himself  if  you  met  him 
here." 

"  I  swear  I  would  never  be  guilty  of  the  bad  joke  of  cry- 
ing a  '  Viva '  to  him  anywhere  upon  earth,"  Carlo  replied. 
"  I  offend  you,"  he  said,  quickly. 

The  old  man  was  smiling. 

"  Agostino  Balderini  is  too  notoriously  a  bad  joker  to  be 
offended  by  the  comments  of  the  perfectly  sensible,  boy  of 
mine  !  My  limbs  were  stiff,  and  the  first  three  steps  from  a 
place  of  rest  reminded  me  acutely  of  the  king's  five  years  of 
hospitality.  He  has  saved  me  from  all  fatigue  so  long,  that 
the  necessity  to  exercise  these  old  joints  of  mine  touched  me 
with  a  grateful  sense  of  his  royal  bounty.  I  had  from  him 
a  chair,  a  bed,  and  a  table :  shelter  from  sun  and  from  all 
silly  chatter.  Now  I  want  a  chair  or  a  bed.  I  should  like 
to  sit  at  a  table  ;  the  sun  burns  me ;  my  ears  are  afHicted. 
I  cry  '  Viva !'  to  him  that  I  may  be  in  harmony  with  the 


(>  VITTORIA. 

coming  chorus  of  Italy,  -which  I  prophetically  hear.  That 
young  fellow,  in  whom  you  confide  so  much,  speaks  for  his 
country.  We  poor  units  must  not  be  discordant.  No ! 
Individual  opinion,  my  Carlo,  is  discord  when  there  is  a 
general  delii-ium.  The  tide  arriving,  let  us  make  the  best 
of  the  tide.  My  voice  is  wisdom.  We  shall  have  to  follow 
this  king !" 

"  Shall  we  !"  uttered  one  behind  them  gruffly.  "  When  I 
see  this  king  swallow  one  ounce  of  Austrian  lead,  I  shall 
not  be  soiTy  to  follow  him  !" 

"  Right,  my  dear  Ugo,"  said  Agostino,  turning  round  to 
him ;  "  and  I  will  then  compose  his  hymn  of  praise.  He 
has  swallowed  enough  of  Austrian  bread.  He  took  an 
Austrian  vdfe  to  his  bed.  Who  knows  ?  he  may  some  day 
declare  a  preference  for  Austrian  lead.  But  we  shall  have 
to  follow  him,  or  stay  at  home  drivelling." 

Agostino  raised  his  eyes,  that  were  glazed  with  the  great 
heat  of  his  frame. 

"  Oh,  that,  like  our  Dante,  I  had  lived  in  the  days  when 
souls  were  damned !  Then  would  I  uplift  another  shout, 
believe  me !  As  things  go  now,  we  must  allow  the  traitor 
to  hope  for  his  own  future,  and  we  simply  shrug.  We  can- 
not plant  him  neck-deep  for  everlasting  in  a  burning  marl, 
and  hear  him  howling.  We  have  no  weapons  in  these  times 
— none !  Our  curses  come  back  to  roost.  This  is  one  of  the 
serious  facts  of  the  century,  and  controls  violent  language. 
What !  are  you  all  gathered  about  me  ?  Oracles  must  be 
moving,  too.  There's  no  rest  even  for  them,  when  they 
have  got  a  mountain  to  scale." 

A  cry,  "  He  is  there  !"  and  "  Do  you  see  him  y"  burst  from 
the  throats  of  men  surrounding  Agostino. 

Looking  up  to  the  mountain's  top,  they  had  perceived  the 
figure  of  one  who  stood  with  folded  arms,  sufficiently  near 
for  the  person  of  an  expected  friend  to  be  descried.  They 
waved  their  hats,  and  Carlo  shot  ahead.  The  others  trod 
after  him  more  deliberately,  but  in  glad  excitement,  specu- 
lating on  the  time  which  this  sixth  member  of  the  party, 
who  were  engaged  to  assemble  at  a  certain  hour  of  the 
morning  upon  yonder  height,  had  taken  to  reach  the  spot 
from  Omegna,  or  Orta,  or  Pella,  and  rejoicing  that  his 
health  should  be  so  stout  in  despite  of  his  wasting  labours 
under  city  smoke. 


ON  THE  HEIGHTS.  7 

"  Yes,  health  !'*  said  Agostino.  "  Is  it  health,  do  you 
think  ?  It's  the  heart  of  the  man  !  and  a  heart  with  a  mill- 
stone ahont  it — a  heart  to  breed  a  country  from !  There 
stands  the  man  who  has  faith  in  Italy,  though  she  has  been 
lying  like  a  corpse  for  centuries.  God  bless  him  !  He  has 
no  other  comfort.     Yiva  1' Italia  !" 

The  exclamation  went  up,  and  was  acknowledged  by  him 
on  the  eminence  overhanging  them  ;  but  at  a  repetition  of  it 
his  hand  smote  the  air  sideways.  They  understood  the 
motion,  and  were  silent ;  while  he,  until  Carlo  breathed  his 
name  in  his  hearing,  eyed  the  great  scene  steadfastly,  with 
the  absorbing  simple  passion  of  one  who  has  endiired  long 
exile,  and  finds  his  clustered  visions  of  it  confronting  the 
strange,  beloved,  visible  life : — the  lake  in  the  arms  of  giant 
mountains :  the  far-spreading  hazy  plain ;  the  hanging 
forests ;  the  pointed  crags  ;  the  gleam  of  the  distant  rose- 
shadowed  snows  that  stretch  for  ever  like  an  airy  host, 
mystically  clad,  and  baffling  the  eye  as  with  the  motions  of 
a  flight  toward  the  underlying  purple  land. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ON     THE     HEIGHTS. 


He  was  a  man  of  middle  stature,  thin,  and  even  frail,  as 
he  stood  defined  against  the  sky ;  with  the  complexion  of 
the  student,  and  the  student's  aspect.  The  attentive  droop 
of  his  shoulders  and  head,  the  sti'aining  of  the  buttoned  coat 
across  his  chest,  the  air  as  of  one  who  waited  and  listened, 
which  distinguished  his  figure,  detracted  from  the  promise 
of  other  than  contemplative  enei'gy,  until  his  eyes  were 
fairly  seen  and  felt.  That  is,  until  the  observer  became 
aware  that  those  soft  and  large  dark  meditative  eyes  had 
taken  hold  of  him.  In  them  lay  no  abstracted  student's 
languor,  no  reflex  burning  of  a  solitary  lamp ;  but  a  quiet 
grappling  force  engaged  the  peneti^ating  look.  Gazing  upon 
them,  you  were  drawn  in  suddenly  among  the  thousand 
whirring  wheels  of  a  capacious  and  a  vigorous  mind,  that 
was  both  reasoning  and  prompt,  keen  of  intellect,  acting 


8  VITTORIA. 

tkroiighout  all  its  machinery,  and  having  all  nnder  full  com- 
mand :  an  orbed  mind,  supplying  its  own  philosophy,  and 
arriving  at  the  sword-stroke  by  logical  steps, — a  mind  much 
less  supple  than  a  soldier's;  anything  but  the  mind  of  a 
Hamlet.  The  eyes  were  dark  as  the  forest's  border  is  dark  ; 
not  as  night  is  dark.  Under  favourable  lights  their  colour 
was  seen  to  be  a  deep  rich  brown,  like  the  chestnut,  or  more 
like  the  hazel-edged  sunset  brown  which  lies  upon  oui- 
western  rivers  in  the  winter  floods,  when  night  begins  to 
shadow  them.  The  side-view  of  his  face  was  an  expression 
of  classic  beauty  rarely  now  to  be  beheld,  either  in  classic 
lands  or  elsewhere.  It  was  severe ;  the  tender  serenity  of 
the  full  bow  of  the  eyes  relieved  it.  In  profile  they  showed 
little  of  their  intellectual  quality,  but  what  some  might  have 
thought  a  playful  luminousness,  and  some  a  quick  pulse  of 
feeling.  The  chin  was  firm ;  on  it,  and  on  the  upper  lip, 
there  was  a  clipped  growth  of  black  hair.  The  whole  visage 
widened  upward  from  the  chin,  though  not  very  markedly 
before  it  reached  the  broad-lying  brows.  The  temples  were 
strongly  indented  by  the  swelling  of  the  forehead  above 
them :  and  on  both  sides  of  the  head  there  ran  a  pregnant 
ridge,  such  as  will  sometimes  lift  men  a  deplorable  half  inch 
above  the  earth  we  tread.  If  this  man  was  a  problem  to 
others,  he  was  none  to  himself ;  and  when  others  called  him 
an  idealist,  he  accepted  the  title,  reading  himself,  notwith- 
standing, as  one  who  was  less  flighty  than  many  philosophers 
and  professedly  practical  teachers  of  his  generation.  He 
saw  far,  and  he  grasped  ends  beyond  obstacles :  he  was 
nourished  by  sovereign  principles ;  he  despised  material 
present  interests ;  and,  as  I  have  said,  he  was  less  supple 
than  a  soldier.  If  the  title  of  idealist  belonged  to  him,  we 
will  not  immediately  decide  that  it  was  opprobrious.  The 
idealized  conception  of  stern  truths  played  about  his  head 
certainly  for  those  who  knew  and  who  loved  it.  Such  a  man, 
perceiving  a  devout  end  to  be  reached,  might  prove  less 
scrupulous  in  his  course,  possibly,  and  less  remorseful,  than 
revolutionary  Generals.  His  smile  was  quite  unclouded,  and 
came  softly  as  a  curve  in  water.  It  seemed  to  flow  with,  and 
to  pass  in  and  out  of,  his  thoughts, — to  be  a  part  of  his 
emotion  and  his  meaning  when  it  shone  transiently  full. 
For  as  he  had  an  orbed  mind,  so  had  he  an  orbed  nature. 
The  passions  were  absolutely  in  harmony  with  the  intelli- 


ON  THE  HEIGHTS.  9 

gence.  He  had  tlie  English  manner  ;  a  remarkable  sim- 
plicity contrasting  with  the  demonstrative  ontcries  and 
gesticulations  of  his  friends  when  they  joined  him  on  the 
height.  Calling  them  each  by  name,  he  received  their 
caresses  and  took  their  hands ;  after  which  he  touched  the 
old  man's  shoulder. 

**  Agostino,  this  has  breathed  you  ?" 

*•  It  has  ;  it  has,  my  dear  and  best  one  !"  Agostino  replied. 
"  But  here  is  a  good  market-place  for  air.  Down  below  we 
have  to  scramble  for  it  in  the  mire.  The  spies  are  stifling 
down  below.  I  don't  know  my  own  shadow.  I  begin  to  think 
that  I  am  important.  Footing  up  a  mountain  corrects 
the  notion  somewhat.  Yonder,  I  believe,  I  see  the  Grisons, 
where  Freedom  sits.  And  there's  the  Monte  della  Disgrazia. 
Carlo  Alberto  should  be  on  the  top  of  it,  but  he  is  invisible. 
I  do  not  see  that  Unfortunate." 

"  No,"  said  Carlo  Ammiani,  who  chimed  to  his  humour 
more  readily  than  the  rest,  and  ali'ected  to  inspect  the 
Grisons'  peak  through  a  diminutive  opera-glass.  "  No,  he  is 
not  there." 

"  Perhaps,  my  son,  he  is  like  a  squirrel,  and  is  careful  to 
run  up  t'other  side  of  the  stem.  For  he  is  on  that  mountain; 
no  doubt  of  it  can  exist  even  in  the  Boeotian  mind  of  one  of 
his  subjects ;  myself,  for  example.  It  will  be  an  eif ulgent 
fact  when  he  gains  the  summit." 

The  others  meantime  had  thrown  themselves  on  the  grass 
at  the  feet  of  their  manifestly  acknowledged  leader,  and 
looked  up  for  Agostino  to  explode  the  last  of  his  train  of 
conceits.  He  became  aware  that  the  moment  for  serious 
talk  had  arrived,  and  bent  his  body,  groaning  loudly,  and 
uttering  imprecations  against  him  whom  he  accused  of  being 
the  promoter  of  its  excruciating  stiffness,  until  the  ground 
relieved  him  of  its  weight.  Carlo  continued  standing,  while 
his  eyes  examined  restlessly  the  slopes  just  surmounted 
by  them,  and  occasionally  the  deep  descent  over  the  green- 
glowing  Orta  Lake.  It  was  still  early  morning.  The  heat 
was  tempered  by  a  cool  breeze  that  came  with  scents  of 
thyme.  They  had  no  sight  of  human  creature  anywhere, 
but  companionship  of  Alps  and  birds  of  upper  air;  and 
though  not  one  of  them  seasoned  the  converse  with  an 
exclamation  of  joy  and  of  blessings  upon  a  place  of  free 
speech  and  safety,  the  thought  was  in  their  hunted  bosoms. 


10  VITTORIA. 

delicious  as  a  woodland  rivulet  that  sings  only  to  the  leaves 
overshadowing  it. 

They  were  men  who  had  sworn  to  set  a  nation  free, — free 
from  the  foreigner,  to  begin  with. 

(He  who  tells  this  tale  is  not  a  partisan ;  he  would  deal 
equally  toward  all.  Of  strong  devotion,  of  stout  nobility,  of 
unswerving  faith  and  self-sacrifice,  he  must  approve ;  and 
when  these  qualities  are  displayed  in  a  contest  of  forces, 
the  wisdom  of  means  employed,  or  of  ultimate  views  enter- 
tained, may  be  questioned  and  condemned;  but  the  men 
themselves  may  not  be.) 

These  men  had  sworn  their  oath,  knowing  the  meaning  of 
it,  and  the  nature  of  the  Fury  against  whom  men  who  stand 
voluntarily  pledged  to  any  great  resolve  must  thenceforward 
match  themselves.  Many  of  the  original  brotherhood  had 
fallen,  on  the  battle-field,  on  the  glacis,  or  in  the  dungeon. 
All  present,  save  the  youthfuller  Carlo,  had  suffered.  Im- 
prisonment and  exile  marked  the  Chief.  Ugo  Corte,  of 
Bergamo,  had  seen  his  family  swept  away  by  the  executioner 
and  pecuniary  penalties.  Thick  scars  of  wounds  covered 
the  body  and  disfigured  the  face  of  Giulio  Bandinelli. 
Agostino  had  crawled  but  half  a  year  previously  out  of  his 
Piedmontese  cell,  and  Marco  Sana,  the  Brescian,had  in  such 
a  place  tasted  of  veritable  tortui^e.  But  if  the  calamity  of  a 
great  oath  was  upon  them,  they  had  now  in  their  faithful 
prosecution  of  it  the  support  which  it  gives.  They  were 
unwearied;  they  had  one  object;  the  mortal  anguish  they 
had  gone  through  had  left  them  no  sense  for  regrets.  Life 
had  become  the  field  of  an  endless  engagement  to  them ;  and 
as  in  battle  one  sees  beloved  comrades  struck  down,  and 
casts  but  a  glance  at  their  prostrate  forms,  they  heard  the 
mention  of  a  name,  perchance,  and  with  a  word  or  a  sign 
told  what  was  to  be  said  of  a  passionate  glorious  heart  at 
rest,  thanks  to  Austrian  or  vassal-Sardinian  mercy. 

So  they  lay  there  and  discussed  their  plans. 

"  From  what  quarter  do  you  apprehend  the  surprise  ?" 
TJgo  Corte  glanced  up  from  the  maps  and  papers  spread 
along  the  grass  to  question  Carlo  ironically,  while  the  latter 
appeared  to  be  keeping  rigid  watch  over  the  safety  of  the 
position.  Carlo  puif  ed  the  smoke  of  a  cigarette  rapidly,  and 
Agostino  replied  for  him — 

"  From  the  quarter  where  the  best  donkeys  are  to  be  had.*' 


ON  THE  HEIGHTS.  11 

It  was  supposed  that  Ag-ostino  had  resumed  the  habit 
usually  laid  aside  by  him  for  the  discussion  of  sei'ious 
matters,  and  had  condescended  to  father  a  coarse  joke  ;  but 
his  eyes  showed  no  spark  of  their  well-known  twinkling* 
solicitation  for  laughter,  and  Carlo  spoke  in  answer  gravely: 

"  From  Baveno  it  will  be." 

"  From  Baveno !  They  might  as  well  think  to  surprise 
hawks  from  Baveno.  Keep  watch,  dear  Ammiani ;  a  good 
start  in  a  race  is  a  kick  from  the  Gods." 

With  that,  Corte  turned  to  the  point  of  his  finger  on  the 
map.  He  conceived  it  possible  that  Carlo  Ammiani,  a 
Milanese,  had  reason  to  anticipate  the  approach  of  people  by 
whom  he,  or  they,  might  not  wish  to  be  seen.  Had  he 
studied  Carlo's  face  he  would  have  been  reassured.  The 
brows  of  the  youth  were  open,  and  his  eyes  eager  with 
expectation,  that  showed  the  flying  forward  of  the  mind,  and 
nothing  of  knotted  distrust  or  Avary  watchfulness.  Now 
and  then  he  would  move  to  the  other  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  look  over  upon  Urta  ;  or  with  the  opera-glass  clasped  in 
one  hand  beneath  an  arm,  he  stopped  in  his  sentinel-march, 
frowning  reflectively  at  a  word  put  to  him,  as  if  debating 
within  upon  all  the  bearings  of  it ;  but  the  only  answer 
that  came  was  a  sharp  assent,  given  after  the  manner  of  one 
who  dealt  conscientiously  in  definite  affirmatives  ;  and  again 
the  glass  was  in  requisition.  Marco  Sana  was  a  fighting 
soldier,  who  stated  what  he  knew,  listened,  and  took  his 
orders.  Giulio  Bandineili  was  also  little  better  than  the 
lieutenant  in  an  enterprise.  Corte,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
the  conspirator's  head, — a  head  like  a  walnut,  bulging  above 
the  ears, — and  the  man  was  of  a  sallying  temper.  He  lay 
there  putting  bit  by  bit  of  his  plot  befoi-e  the  Chief  for  his 
approval,  with  a  careful  construction  that,  upon  the  expres- 
sion of  any  doubt  of  its  working  smoothly  in  the  streets  of 
Milan,  caused  him  to  shout  a  defensive,  "  But  Carlo  says 
yes !" 

This  uniform  character  of  Ammiani's  replies,  and  the 
Bmile  of  Agostino  on  hearing  them,  had  begun  to  strike 
the  attention  of  the  soldierly  Marco  Sana.  He  ran  his 
hand  across  his  shorn  head,  and  puli'ed  his  burnt  red  mole- 
spotted  cheeks,  with  a  sidelong  stare  at  the  abstracted  youth, 
"  Said  yes  !"  he  remarked.  "  He  might  say  no,  for  a  diver- 
sion.    He  has  yeses  enough  in  his  pay  to  earn  a  Cardinal's 


1 2  VITTORIA. 

hat,  *  l8  Milan  preparing  to  rise  ?'  *  Tes.' — *  Is  she  ready 
for  tlie  work  ?'  '  Yes.' — '  Is  the  garrison  on  its  guard  ?' 
'Yes.' — 'Have  you  seen  Barto  Rizzo  ?'  'Yes.' — 'Have  the 
people  got  the  last  batch  of  arms  ?'  '  Yes.' — And  '  Yes,'  the 
secret  is  well  kept;  'Yes,'  Barto  Rizzo  is  steadily  getting 
them  together.  We  may  rely  on  him :  Carlo  is  his  intimate 
friend :  Yes,  Yes  : — There's  a  regiment  of  them  at  your 
service,  and  you  may  shuffle  them  as  you  will.  This  is  the 
help  we  get  from  Milan  :  a  specimen  of  what  we  may 
expect !" 

Sana  had  puffed  himself  hot,  and  now  blew  for  coolness. 

"You  are," — Agostino  addressed  him, — "philosophically 
totally  wrong,  my  Marco.  Those  affirmatives  are  fat  worms 
for  the  catching  of  fish.  They  are  the  real  pretty  fruit  of 
the  Hesperides.  Personally,  you  or  I  may  be  irritated  by 
them :  but  I'm  not  sure  they  don't  please  us.  Were  Carlo 
a  woman,  of  course  he  should  learn  to  say  no ; — as  he  will 
now  if  I  ask  him.  Is  she  in  sight  ?  I  won't  do  it,  you  know  ; 
but  as  a  man  and  a  diislomatist,  it  strikes  me  that  he  can'^" 
say  yes  too  often." 

"  Answer  me,  Count  Ammiani,  and  do  me  the  favour  to 
attend  to  these  trifles  for  the  space  of  two  minutes,"  said 
Corte.  "  Have  you  seen  Barto  Rizzo  ?  Is  he  acting  for 
Medole  ?" 

"  As  mole,  as  reindeer,  and  as  bloody  northern  Raven  !** 
ejaculated  Agostino:  "perhaps  to  be  jackal,  by-and-by.  But 
I  do  not  care  to  abuse  our  Barto  Rizzo,  who  is  a  prodigy  of 
nature,  and  has,  luckily  for  himself,  embraced  a  good  cause, 
for  he  is  certain  to  be  hanged  if  he  is  not  shot.  He  has  the 
prophetic  owl's  face.  I  have  always  a  fancy  of  his  hooting 
his  own  death-scrip.  I  wrong  our  Barto : — Medole  would 
be  the  jackal,  if  it  lay  between  the  two." 

Carlo  Ammiani  had  corrected  Corte's  manner  to  him  by  a 
C(5mplacent  readiness  to  give  him  distinct  replies.  He  then 
turned  and  set  off  at  full  speed  down  the  mountain. 

"  She  is  sighted  at  last,"  Agostino  murmured,  and  added 
rapidly  some  sjairited  words  under  his  breath  to  the  Chief, 
whose  chin  was  restinar  on  his  doubled  hand. 

Corte,  Marco,  and  Giulio  were  full  of  denunciations  against 
Milan  and  the  Milanese,  who  had  sent  a  boy  to  their  councils. 
It  was  Brescia  and  Bergamo  speaking  in  their  jealousy,  but 
Carlo's  behaviour  was  odd,  and  called  for  reproof.     He  had 


ON  THE  HEIGHTS;  13 

come  as  tTie  deputy  of  Milan  to  meet  tlna  chief,  and  lie  had 
not  spoken  a  serious  word  on  the  great  business  of  the  hour, 
though  the  plot  had  been  unfolded,  the  numbers  sworn  to, 
and  Brescia,  and  Bergamo,  and  Cremona,  and  Venice  had 
spoken  upon  all  points  through  their  emissaries,  the  two 
latter  cities  being  represented  hj  Sana  and  Corte. 

"  "We've  had  enough  of  this  lad,"  said  Corte.  "  His 
laundress  is  following  him  with  a  change  of  linen,  I  suppose, 
or  it's  a  scent-bottle.  He's  an  admirable  representative  of 
the  Lombard  metropolis  !"  Corte  drawled  out  the  words  in 
prodigious  mimicry.  "  If  Milan  has  nothing  better  to  send 
than  such  a  fellow,  we'll  finish  without  her,  and  shame  the 
beast  that  she  is.  She  has  been  always  a  treacherous  beast!" 

"Poor  Milan  !"  sighed  the  Chief;  "she  lies  under  the  beak 
of  the  vulture,  and  has  twice  been  devoured;  but  she  has 
a  soul:  she  proves  it.  Ammiani,  too,  will  prove  his  value. 
I  have  no  doubt  of  him.  As  to  boys,  or  even  girls,  you  know 
my  faith  is  in  the  young.  Through  them  Italy  lives.  What 
power  can  teach  devotion  to  the  old  ?" 

"  I  thank  you,  signore,"  Agostino  gesticulated. 

"  But,  tell  me,  when  did  you  learn  it,  my  friend  ?" 

In  answer,  Agostino  lifted  his  hand  a  little  boy's  height 
from  the  earth. 

The  old  man  then  said :  "  I  am  afraid,  my  dear  Corte,  you 
must  accept  the  fellowship  of  a  girl  as  well  as  of  a  boy  upon 
this  occasion.  See  !  our  Carlo  !  You  recognize  that  dancing 
speck  below  there  ? — he  has  joined  himself — the  poor  lad 
wishes  he  could,  I  dare  swear! — to  another  bigger  speck, 
which  is  verily  a  lady :  who  has  joined  herself  to  a  donkey 
— a  common  habit  of  the  sex,  I  am  told ;  but  I  know  them 
not.  That  lady,  signer  Ugo,  is  the  signorina  Yittoria.  You 
stare  ?  But,  I  tell  you,  the  game  cannot  go  on  without  her; 
and  that  is  why  I  have  permitted  you  to  knock  the  ball  about 
at  your  own  pleasure  for  these  forty  minutes." 

Corte  drew  his  under-lip  on  his  reddish  stubble  moustache. 
"  Are  we  to  have  women  in  a  conference  F"  he  asked  from 
eye  to  eye. 

"  Keep  to  the  number,  Ugo ;  and  moreover,  she  is  not  a 
woman,  but  a  noble  virgin.  I  discern  a  distinction,  though 
you  may  not.     The  Vestal's  fire  burns  straight." 

"  Who  is  she  ?" 

"  Tt  rejoices  mo  that  she  should  be  so  little  known.     All 


14  VITTORIA. 

the  greater  the  illumination  when  her  light  shines  ont ! 
The  sig'norina  Vittoria  is  a  cantatrice  who  is  about  to  appear 
upon  the  boards." 

"  Ah  !  that  completes  it."  Corte  rose  to  his  feet  with 
an  air  of  desperation.  "  We  require  to  be  refreshed  with 
quavers  and  crescendos  and  trillets !  Who  ever  knew  a 
singer  that  cared  an  inch  of  flesh  for  her  country  ?  Money, 
flowers,  flattery,  vivas  !  but,  money !  money !  and  Austrian 
as  good  as  Italian.  I've  seen  the  accursed  wenches  bow 
p-ratef ully  for  Austrian  bouquets  : — bow  ?  ay,  and  more ; 
an  I  when  the  Austrian  came  to  them  red  with  our  blood. 
I  spit  upon  their  polluted  cheeks  !  They  get  us  an  ill  name 
wherever  they  go.  These  singers  have  no  country.  One — 
1  knew  her — betrayed  Filippo  Mastalone,  and  sang  the  night 
of  the  day  he  was  shot.  I  heard  the  white  demon  myself. 
I  could  have  taken  her  long  neck  till  she  twisted  like  a 
serpent  and  hissed.  May  heaven  forgive  me  for  not  level- 
ling a  pistol  at  her  head  !  If  God,  my  friends,  had  put  the 
thought  into  my  brain  that  night !" 

A  flush  had  deadened  Corte's  face  to  the  hue  of  night- 
shade. 

"  You  thunder  in  a  clear  atmosphere,  my  TJgo,"  returned 
the  old  man,  as  he  fell  back  calmly  at  full  length. 

"  And  who  is  this  signorina  Vittoria  ?"  cried  Corte. 

"  A  cantatrice  who  is  about  to  appear  upon  the  boards,  as 
I  have  already  remarked :  of  La  Scala,  let  me  add,  if  you 
hold  it  necessary." 

"  And  what  does  she  do  here  ?" 

"  Her  object  in  coming,  my  friend  ?  Her  object  in  coming 
is,  first,  to  make  her  reverence  to  one  who  happens  to  be 
among  us  this  day  ;  and  secondly,  but  principally,  to  submit 
a  proposition  to  him  and  to  us." 

"  What's  her  age  ?"  Corte  sneered. 

"  According  to  what  calendar  would  you  have  it  reckoned  ? 
Wisdom  would  say  sixty :  Father  Chronos  might  divide 
that  by  three,  and  would  get  scarce  a  month  in  addition, 
hungry  as  he  is  for  her,  and  all  of  us  !  But  Minerva's 
handmaiden  has  no  age.  And  now,  dear  Ugo,  you  have 
your  ojiportunity  to  denounce  her  as  a  convicted  sci-eecher 
by  night.     Do  so." 

Corte  turned  his  face  to  the  Chief,  and  they  spoke  together 
for  some  minutes  :  after  which,  having  had  names  of  noblo 


SIQNORINA  VITTORIA.  15 

devoted  women,  dead  and  living,  cited  to  him,  in  answer  to 
brutal  bellowings  against  that  sex,  and  hearing  of  the  damsel 
under  debate  as  one  who  was  expected  and  was  welcome,  he 
flung  himself  upon  the  ground  again,  inviting  calamity  by- 
premature  resignation.  Giulio  Bandinelli  stretched  his  hand 
for  Carlo's  glass,  and  spied  the  approach  of  the  signorina. 

"  Dark,"  he  said. 

"A  jewel  of  that  complexion,"  added  Agostino,  by  way  of 
comment. 

"  She  has  scorching  eyes," 

"  She  may  do  mischief ;  she  may  do  mischief ;  let  it  be 
only  on  the  right  side  !" 

"  She  looks'fat." 

"  She  sits  doubled  up  and  forward,  don't  you  see,  to 
relieve  the  poor  donkey.  You,  my  Giulio,  would  call  a  swan 
fat  if  the  neck  were  not  always  on  the  stretch." 

"  B,y  Bacchus  !  what  a  throat  she  has  !" 

"  And  well  interjected,  Giulio !  It  runs  down  like  wine, 
like  wine,  to  the  little  ebbing  and  flowing  wave  !  Away 
with  the  glass,  my  boy !  You  must  trust  to  all  that's  best 
about  you  to  spy  what's  within.  She  makes  me  young — 
young  !" 

Agostino  waved  his  hand  in  the  form  of  a  salute  to  her 
on  the  last  short  ascent.  She  acknowledged  it  gracefully ; 
and  talking  at  intervals  to  Carlo  Ammiani,  who  footed 
briskly  by  her  side,  she  drew  by  degrees  among  the  eyes 
fixed  on  her,  some  of  which  were  not  gentle ;  but  hers  were 
for  the  Chief,  at  whose  feet,  when  dismounted  by  Aramiani's 
solicitous  aid,  she  would  have  knelt,  had  he  not  seized  her 
by  her  elbows,  and  put  his  lips  to  her  cheek. 

"  The  signorina  Vittoria,  gentlemen,"  said  Agostino. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SIGNORINA   VITTORIA. 


The  old  man  had  introduced  her  with  much  of  the  piide 
of  a  father  displaying  some  noble  child  of  his  for  the  first 
time  to  admii'ing  friends. 


16  VITTORIA. 

"She  is  one  of  us,'' he  pursued;  "a  danghter  of  Italy! 
My  daughter  also  ;  is  it  not  so  ?" 

He  turned  to  her  as  for  a  confirmation.  The  signorina 
pressed  his  fingers.  She  was  a  little  intimidated,  and  for 
the  moment  seemed  shy  and  girlish.  The  shade  of  her 
broad  straw  hat  partly  concealed  her  vivid  features. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,  the  number  is  complete, 
and  we  may  proceed  to  business,"  said  Agostino,  formally : 
but  as  he  conducted  the  signorina  to  place  her  at  the  feet  of 
the  Chief,  she  beckoned  to  her  servant,  who  was  holding  the 
animal  she  had  ridden.  He  came  up  to  her,  and  presented 
himself  in  something  of  a  military  posture  of  attention  to 
her  commands.  These  were  that  he  should  take  the  poor 
brute  to  water,  and  then  lead  him  back  to  Baveno,  and  do 
duty  in  waiting  upon  her  mother.  The  first  injunction  was 
received  in  a  decidedly  acquiescent  manner.  On  hearing 
the  second,  which  directed  his  abandonment  of  his  post  of 
immediate  watchfulness  over  her  safety,  the  man  flatly 
objected  with  a  "  Signorina,  no." 

He  was  a  handsome  bright-eyed  fellow,  with  a  soldier's 
frame  and  a  smile  as  broad  and  beaming  as  laughter,  in- 
dicating much  of  that  mixture  of  acuteness  and  simplicity 
which  is  a  characteristic  of  the  South,  and  means  no  more 
than  that  the  extreme  vivacity  of  the  blood  exceeds  at  times 
that  of  the  brain. 

A  curious  frown  of  half-amused  astonishment  hung  on  the 
signorina's  face. 

"  When  I  tell  you  to  go,  Beppo !" 

At  once  the  man  threw  out  his  fingers,  accompanied  by  an 
amazingly  voluble  delivery  of  his  reasons  for  this  revolt 
against  her  authority.  Among  other  things,  he  spoke  of  an 
oath  sworn  by  him  to  a  foreign  gentleman,  his  patron, — foi 
whom,  and  for  whomsoever  he  loved,  he  was  ready  to  poui 
forth  his  heart's  blood, — to  the  effect  that  he  would  nevei 
quit  her  side  when  she  left  the  roof  of  her  house. 

"  You  see,  Beppo,"  she  remonstrated,  "  I  am  among 
friends." 

Beppo  gave  a  sweeping  bow,  but  remained  firm  where  he 
stood.     Ammiani  cast  a  sharp  hard  look  at  the  man. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  signorina's  orders  ?" 

"  I  hear  them,  signore." 

«  Will  you  obey  them  ?" 


SIGNORINA  VITTORIA.  17 

Slie  interposed.  "  He  must  not  hear  quick  words.  Beppo 
is  only  showing  his  love  for  his  master  and  for  me.  But 
you  are  wrong  in  this  ease,  my  Beppo.  You  shall  give  me 
your  protection  when  I  require  it ;  and  now,  you  are 
sensible,  and  must  understand  that  it  is  not  wanted.  I  tell 
you  to  go." 

Beppo  read  the  eyes  of  his  young  mistress. 

"  Signorina," — he  stooped  forward  mysteriously, — "  sig- 
nor.na,  that  fellow  is  in  Baveno.     I  saw  him  this  morning." 

"  Ciood,  good.     And  now  go,  my  friend." 

"The  signer  Agostino,"  he  remarked  loudly,  to  attract 
the  old  man ;  "  the  signor  Agostino  may  think  proper  to 
advise  you." 

"  The  signor  Agostino  will  laugh  at  nothing  that  you  say 
to-day,  Beppo.  You  will  obey  me.  Go  at  once,"  she 
repeated,  seeing  him  on  tiptoe  to  gain  Agostino's  attention. 

Beppo  knew  by  her  eyes  that  her  ears  were  locked  against 
him  ;  and,  though  she  spoke  softly,  there  was  an  imperious- 
ness  in  her  voice  not  to  be  disregarded.  He  showed  plainly 
by  the  lost  rigidity  of  his  attitude  that  he  was  beaten  and 
perplexed.  Further  expostulations  being  disregarded,  he 
turned  his  head  to  look  at  the  poor  panting  beast  under  his 
charge,  and  went  slowly  up  to  him :  they  walked  off  together, 
a  crest-fallen  pair. 

"  You  have  gained  the  victory,  signorina,"  said  Ugo  Corte. 

She  replied,  smiling,  "  My  poor  Beppo !  it's  not  difficult 
to  get  the  best  of  those  who  love  us." 

"  Ha !"  cried  Agostino ;  "  here  is  one  of  their  secrets. 
Carlo.  Take  heed  of  it,  my  boy.  We  shall  have  queens 
when  kings  are  fossils,  mark  me  !" 

Ammiani  muttered  a  courtly  phrase,  whereat  Corte 
yawned  in  very  grim  fashion. 

The  signorina  had  dropped  to  the  grass,  at  a  h  )rt  step 
from  the  Chief,  to  whom  her  face  was  now  serioi  s  y  given. 
In  Ammiani's  sight  she  looked  a  dark  Madonna,  with  the 
sun  shining  bright  gold  through  the  edges  of  the  summer 
hat,  thrown  back  from  her  head.  The  full  and  steady  con- 
templative eyes  had  taken  their  fixed  expression,  after  a 
vanishing  affectionate  gaze  of  an  instant  cast  upon  Agostino. 
Attentive  as  they  were,  light  j)layed  in  them  like  water. 
The  countenance  was  vivid  in  repose.      She  leaned  slightly 

P 


18  VITTORIl. 

forward,  clasping  the  wrist  of  one  hand  about  her  knee,  and 
the  sole  of  one  little  foot  showed  from  under  her  dress. 

Deliberately,  but  with  no  attempt  at  dramatic  impressive- 
ness,  the  Chief  began  to  speak.  He  touched  upon  the  con- 
dition of  Italy,  and  the  new  life  animating  her  young  men 
and  women.  "  I  have  heard  many  good  men  jeer,"  he  said, 
"  at  our  taking  women  to  our  counsel,  accepting  their  help, 
and  putting  a  great  stake  upon  their  devotion.  You  have 
read  history,  and  you  know  what  women  can  accomplish. 
They  may  be  trained,  equally  as  we  are,  to  venerate  the 
abstract  idea  of  country,  and  be  a  sacrifice  to  it.  Without 
their  aid,  and  the  fire  of  a  fresh  life  being  kindled  in  their 
bosoms,  no  country  that  has  lain  like  ours  in  the  death- 
trance  can  revive.  In  the  death-trance,  I  say,  for  Italy  does 
not  die !" 

"  True,"  said  other  voices. 

"  We  have  this  belief  in  the  eternal  life  of  our  country,  and 
the  belief  is  the  life  itself.  But  let  no  strong  man  among 
■QS  despise  the  help  of  women.  I  have  seen  our  cause  lie 
desperate,  and  those  who  despaired  of  it  were  not  women. 
Women  kept  the  flame  alive.  They  worship  in  the  temple 
of  the  cause." 

Ammiani's  eyes  dwelt  fervidly  upon  the  signorina.  Her 
look,  which  was  fastened  upon  the  Chief,  expressed  a  mind 
that  listened  to  strange  matter  concerning  her  very  little. 
But  when  the  plans  for  the  rising  of  the  Bergamascs  and 
Brescians,  the  Venetians,  the  Bolognese,  the  Milanese,  all 
the  principal  Northern  cities,  were  recited,  with  a  practical 
emphasis  thrown  upon  numbers,  upon  the  readiness  of  the 
organized  bands,  the  dispositions  of  the  leaders,  and  the 
amount  of  resistance  to  be  expected  at  the  various  points 
indicated  for  the  outbreak,  her  hands  disjoined,  and  she 
stretched  her  fingers  to  the  gi^ass,  supporting  herself  so, 
while  her  extended  chin  and  animated  features  told  how 
eagerly  her  spirit  drank  at  positive  springs,  and  thirsted  foi 
assurance  of  the  coming  storm. 

"  It  is  decided  that  Milan  gives  the  signal,"  said  the 
Chief ;  and  a  light,  like  the  reflection  of  a  beacon-fire  upon 
the  night,  flashed  over  her. 

He  was  pursuing,  when  Ugo  Corte  smote  the  air  with  his 
nervous  fingers,  crying  out  passionately,  "  Bunglers  !  are  we 
again  to  wait  for  them,  and  hear  that  fifteen  patriots  have 


SIGNORINA  VITTOEIA.  19 

stabbed  a  Croat  corporal,  and  wrestled  hotly  with  a  lieu- 
tenant of  the  guard  ?     I  say  they  are  bunglers.     They  never 
mean  the  thing.     Fifteen  !     There  were  just  three  Milanese 
among  the  last  lot — the  pick  of  the  city  ;  and  the  rest  were 
made  up  of  Trentini,  and  our  lads  from  Bergamo  and  Brescia  ; 
and  the  order  from  the  Council  was,  '  Go  and  do  the  busi- 
ness !'  which  means,  '  Go  and  earn  your  ounce  of  Austrian 
lead.'     They  went,  and  we  gave  fifteen  true  men  for  one  poor 
devil  of  a  curst  tight  blue-log.     They  can  play  the  game  on 
if  we  give  them  odds  like  that.     Milan  burns  bad  powder, 
and  goes  oif  like  a  drugged  pistol.     It's  a  nest  of  bunglers, 
and  may  it  be  razed  !     We  could  do  without  it,  and  well ! 
If  it  were  a  family  failing,  should  not  I   too  be   trusting 
them  ?     My  brother  was  one  of  the  fifteen  who  marched  out 
as  targets   to  try  the  skill  of  those   hell-plumed   Tyrolese  : 
and  they  did  it  thoroughly — shot  him  straight  here."     Corte 
struck  his  chest.     "  He  gave  a  jump  and  a  cry.     "Was  it  a 
viva  for  Milan  ?     They  swear  that  it  was,  and  they  can't 
translate  from  a  living  mouth,  much  more  from  a  dead  one  ; 
but  I   know  my  Niccolo  better.     I  have  kissed  his  lips  a 
thousand  times,  and  I  know  the  poor  boy  meant,  '  Scorn  and 
eternal    distrust  of  such  peddling   conspirators    as    these  !' 
I  can  deal  with  traitors,  but  these  flash-in-the-pan  plotters — 
these  shaking,  jelly-bodied  patriots  ! — trust  to  them  again  ? 
Rather  draw  lots   for  another  fifteen  to  bare  their  breasts 
and  bandage  their  eyes,  and  march  out  in  the  grey  morning, 
while  the  stupid  Croat  corporal   goes  on  smoking  his  lumpy 
pipe  !     We  shall  hear  that  Milan  is  moving;  we  shall  rise; 
we  shall  be  hot  at  it ;  and  the  news  will  come  that  Milan  has 
merely  yawned  and  turned  over  to  sleep  on  the  other  side. 
Twice  she  has  done  this  trick,  and  the  garrison  there  has 
sent  five  regiments   to  finish  us — teach  us   to  sleep  soundly 
likewise  !     I  say,  let  it  be  Bergamo  ;  or  be  it  Brescia,  if  you 
like  ;  or  Venice  :  she  is  ready.     You  trust  to  Milan,  and  you 
are  fore-doomed.     I  would  swear  it  with  this  hand  in  the 
flames.     She  give  the  signal  ?     Shut  your  eyes,  cross  your 
hands  flat  on  your  breasts  :  you  are  dead  men  if  you  move. 
She  lead  the  way  ?      Spin   on   your   heels,   and  you   have 
followed  her !" 

Corte  had  spoken  in  a  thick  difficult  voice,  that  seemed  to 
require  the  aid  of  his  vehement  gestures  to  pour  out  as  it 
did  like  a  watsr-pipe  in  a  huirlunuo  of  rain.     He  ceased, 

c-2 


20  VITTOEIA. 

red  almost  to  blackness,  and  knotted  his  arms,  that  were  Hg 
as  the  cable  of  a  vessel.  Not  a  murmur  followed  his  speech. 
The  word  was  given  to  the  Chief,  and  he  resumed  : — 

"You  have  a  personal  feeling  in  this  case,  Ugo.     Ton 
have  not  heard  me.     I  came  through  Paris.     A  rocket  will 
soon  shoot  up  from  Paris  that  will  be  a  signal  for  Christen- 
dom.    The  keen  French  wit  is  sick  of  its  compromise-king. 
All  Europe  is  in  convulsions  in  a  few  months :  to-mon-ow  it 
may  be.     The  elements  are  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and 
nothing  will  contain  them.     We  have  sown  them  to  reap 
them.     The  sowing  asks  for  persistency;  but  the  reaping 
demands  skill  and  absolute  truthfulness.     We  have  now  one 
of  those  occasions  coming  which  are  the  flowers  to  be  plucked 
by  resolute  and  worthy  hands  :  they  are  the  tests  of  our  sin- 
cerity.    This  time  now  rapidly  approaching  will  try  us  all, 
and  we  must  be  ready  for  it.     If  we  have  believed  in  it,  we 
stand  prepared.     If  we  have  conceived  our  plan  of  action  in 
purity  of  heart,  we  shall  be  guided  to  discern  the  means 
which  may  serve  us.     Tou  will  know  speedily  what  it  is 
that  has  prompted  you  to  move.     If  passion  blindfolds  you, 
if  you  are  foiled  by  a  prejudice,  I   also   shall  know.     My 
friend,  the  nursing  of  a  single  antipathy  is  a  presumption 
that  your  motive  force  is  personal — whether  the  thirst  for 
vengeance  or  some  internal  union  of  a  hundred  indistinct 
little  fits  of  egoism.     I  have  seen  brave  and  even  noble  men 
fail  at  the  ordeal  of  such  an  hour :  not  fail  in  courage,  not 
fail  in  the  strength  of  their  desire ;  that  was  the  misery  for 
them !     They  failed  because  midway  they  lost  the  vision  to 
select  the  right  instruments    put   in   our  way  by  heaven. 
That  vision  belongs  solely  to  such  as  have  clean  and  dis- 
ciplined hearts.     The  hope  in  the  bosom  of  a  man  whose 
fixed  star  is  Humanity  becomes  a  part  of  his  blood,  and  is 
extinguished  when  his  blood  flows  no  more.        To  conquer 
him,  the  principle  of  life  must  be  conquered.     And  he,  my 
friend,  will  use  all,  because  he  serves  all.     I  need  not  touch 
on  Milan." 

The  sig-norina  drew  in  her  breath  quickly,  as  if  in  this 
abrupt  close  she  had  a  revelation  of  the  Chief's  whole  mean- 
ing, and  was  startled  by  the  sudden  unveiling  of  his  mastery. 
Her  hands  hung  loose ;  her  figure  was  tremulous.  A  mur- 
mur  from  Corte  jarred  within  her  like  a  furious  discord,  but 
he  had  not  offended  by  refusing  to  disclaim  his  error,  and 


SIGNORINA  VITTORIA.  21 

had  simply  said  in  a  gruff  acquiescent  way,  "Proceed," 
Her  sensations  of  surprise  at  the  singular  triumph,  of  the 
Chief  made  her  look  curiously  into  the  faces  of  the  other 
men ;  but  the  pronouncing  of  her  name  engaged  her  atten- 
tion. 

"  Your  first  night  is  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  next 
month  ?" 

"  It  is,  signore,"  she  replied,  abashed  to  find  herself  speak- 
xnfj  with  him  who  had  so  moved  her. 

"  There  is  no  likelihood  of  a  postponement  r 

"  I  am  certain,  signore,  that  I  shall  be  ready." 

*'  There  are  no  squabbles  of  any  serious  kind  among  the 
singers  z 

A  soft  dimple  played  for  a  moment  on  her  lips.  **  I  have 
heard  something." 

"  Among  the  women  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  men." 

*'  But  the  men  do  not  concern  you  ?" 

"  No,  signore.     Except  that  the  women  twist  them.** 

Agostino  chuckled  audibly.     The  Chief  resumed  : — 

"  You  believe,  notwithstanding,  that  all  will  go  well  ? 
The  opera  will  be  acted,  and  you  will  appear  in  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  signore.  I  know  one  who  has  determined  on  it,  and 
can  do  it." 

"  Good.     The  opera  is  Camilla  ?" 

She  was  answering  with  an  affirmative,  when  Agostino 
broke  in, — 

"  Camilla !  And  honour  to  whom  honour  is  due !  Let 
Caesar  claim  the  writing  of  the  libretto,  if  it  be  Caesar's !  It 
has  passed  the  censorship,  signed  Agostino  Balderini — a 
disali'ected  person  out  of  Piedmont,  rendered  tame  and  fang, 
less  by  a  rigorous  imprisonment.  The  sources  of  the  tale, 
O  ye  grave  Signori  Tedeschi  ?  The  sources  are  partly  to  be 
ti-aced  to  a  neat  little  French  vaudeville,  very  sparkling — 
Camille,  or  the  Husband  Asserted;  and  again  to  a  certain 
Chronicle  that  may  be  media3val,  may  be  modem,  and  is 
just,  as  the  great  Shakespeare  would  say,  '  as  you  like  it.' " 

Agostino  recited  some  mock  verses,  burlesquing  the  ordi- 
nary libretti,  and  provoked  loud  laughter  from  Carlo 
Ammiani,  who  was  familiar  enough  with  the  run  of  their 
nonsense. 

"  Camilla  is  the  bride  of  Camillo.     I  give  to  her  all  tho 


22  VITTORIA, 

brains,  which  is  a  modern  idea,  quite !  He  does  all  the  mis- 
chief, which  is  possibly  mediaeval.  They  have  both  an 
enemy,  which  is  mediaeval  and  modera.  None  of  them  know 
exactly  what  they  are  about ;  so  there  you  have  the  modern, 
the  medifeval,  and  the  antique,  all  in  one.  Finally,  my 
friends,  Camilla  is  something  for  you  to  digest  at  leisure. 
The  censorship  swallowed  it  at  a  gulp,  Never  was  bait  so 
handsomely  taken!  At  present  I  have  the  joy  of  playing 
my  fish.  On  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  I  land  him.  Camilla 
has  a  mother.  Do  you  see  ?  That  mother  is  reported,  is 
generally  conceived,  as  dead.  Do  you  see  further  ?  Camilla's 
first  song  treats  of  a  dream  s^ie  has  had  of  that  mother.  Our 
signorina  shall  not  be  troubled  to  favour  you  with  a  taste  of 
it,  or,  by  Bacchus  and  his  Indian  nymphs,  I  should  speedily 
behold  you  jumping  like  peas  in  a  pan,  like  trout  on  a  bank ! 
The  earth  would  be  hot  under  you,  verily !  As  I  was  re- 
marking, or  meant  to  be,  Camilla  and  her  husband  disagree, 
having  agreed  to.  'Tis  a  plot  to  deceive  Count  Orso — aha  ? 
You  are  acquainted  with  Count  Orso !  He  is  Camilla's  ante- 
nuptial guardian.  Now  you  warm  to  it !  In  that  condition 
I  leave  you.  Perhaps  my  child  here  will  give  you  a  taste  of 
her  voice.  The  poetry  does  much  upon  reflection,  but  it  haa 
to  ripen  within  you — a  matter  of  time.  "Wed  this  voice  to 
the  poetry,  and  it  finds  passage  'twixt  your  ribs,  as  on  the 
point  of  a  driven  blade.  Do  I  cry  the  sweetness  and  the 
coolness  of  my  melons  ?     Not  I !     Try  them." 

The  signorina  put  her  hand  out  for  the  scroll  he  was  un- 
folding, and  cast  her  eyes  along  bars  of  music,  while  Agos- 
tino  called  a  "  Silenzio  tutti !"  She  sang  one  verse,  and 
stopped  for  breath. 

Between  her  dismayed  breathings  she  said  to  the  Chief : 

"  Believe  me,  signore,  I  can  be  trusted  to  sing  when  the 
time  comes." 

"Sing  on,  my  blackbird — my  viola!"  said  Agostino. 
"  We  all  trust  you.  Look  at  Colonel  Corte,  and  take  him 
for  Count  Orso.  Take  me  for  pretty  Camillo.  Take  Marco 
for  Michiela ;  Giulio  for  Leonardo  ;  Carlo  for  Cupid.  Take 
the  Chief  for  the  audience.  Take  him  for  a  frivolous  public. 
Ah,  my  Pippo  !"  (Agostino  laughed  aside  to  him).  "  Let  us 
lead  off  with  a  lighter  piece  ;  a  trifle-tra-la-la  !  and  then  let 
the  frisky  piccolo  be  drovsmed  in  deep  organ  notes,  as  on 
some  occasions  in  history  the  people  overrun  certain  puling 


SIGNOEINA  VITTORIA.  23 

characters.  But  that,  I  confess,  is  an  illustration  altogether 
out  of  place,  and  I'll  simply  jot  it  down  in  my  note-book." 

Agostino  had  talked  on  to  let  her  gain  confidence.  When 
he  was  silent  she  sang  from  memory.  It  was  a  song  of 
flourishes :  one  of  those  be-flowered  arias  in  which  the  notes 
flicker  and  leap  like  young  flames.  Others  might  have  sung 
it ;  and  though  it  spoke  favourably  of  her  aptitude  and 
musical  education,  and  was  of  a  quality  to  enrapture  easy, 
merely  critical  audiences,  it  won  no  applause  from  these 
men.  The  effect  produced  by  it  was  exhibited  in  the  placid 
tolerance  shown  by  the  uplifting  of  Ugo  Corte's  eyebrows, 
which  said,  "Well,  here's  a  voice,  certainly."  His  subse- 
quent look  added,  "  Is  this  what  we  have  come  hither  to 
hear  ?" 

Vittoria  saw  the  look.  "  Am  I  on  my  trial  before  yon.  ?" 
she  thought ;  and  the  thought  nerved  her  throat.  She  sang 
in  strong  and  grave  conti"alto  tones,  at  first  with  shut  eyes. 
The  sense  of  hostility  left  her,  and  left  her  soul  free,  and 
she  raised  them.  The  song  was  of  Camilla  dying.  She 
pardons  the  treacherous  hand,  commending  her  memory  and 
the  strength  of  her  faith  to  her  husband : — 

"  Beloved,  I  am  quickly  out  of  sight : 

I  pray  that  you  will  love  more  than  my  dust. 
Were  death  defeat,  much  weeping  would  be  right ; 
'Tis  victory  when  it  leaves  surviving  trust. 
You  will  not  find  me  save  when  you  forget 
Earth's  feebleness,  and  come  to  faith,  my  friend. 
For  all  Humanity  doth  owe  a  debt 
To  all  Humanity,  until  the  end." 

Agostino  glanced  at  the  Chief  to  see  whether  his  ear  liad 
caught  note  of  his  own  language. 

The  melancholy  severity  of  that  song  of  death  changed  to 
a  song  of  prophetic  triumph.  The  signorina  stood  up. 
Camilla  has  thrown  off  the  mask,  and  has  sung  the  name 
*'  Italia !"     At  the  recurrence  of  it  the  men  rose  likewise. 

"  Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free  1" 

Vittoria  gave  the  inspiration  of  a  dying  voice :  the  con- 
quest  of  death  by  an  eternal  truth  seemed  to  radiate  from 
her.     Voice  and  features  were  as  one  expression  of  a  rapture 
of  belief  bmlt  upon  pathetic  trustfulness. 
"  Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free  I" 


24  VITTORIA. 

She  seized  the  hearts  of  those  hard  and  serions  men  as  a 
wind  takes  the  strong  oak-trees,  and  rocks  them  on  their 
knotted  roots,  and  leaves  them  with  the  song  of  soaring 
among  their  branches.  Italy  shone  about  her ;  the  lake,  the 
plains,  the  peaks,  and  the  shouldering  flushed  snow-ridges. 
Carlo  Ammiani  breathed  as  one  who  draws  in  fire.  Grizzled 
Agostino  glittered  with  suppressed  emotion,  like  a  frosted 
thorn- bush  in  the  sanlight.  Ugo  Corte  had  his  thick  brows 
down,  as  a  man  who  is  reading  iron  matter.  The  Chief 
alone  showed  no  sign  beyond  a  half  lifting  of  the  hand,  and 
a  most  luminous  fixed  observation  of  the  fair  young  woman, 
from  whom  power  was  an  emanation,  free  of  effort.  The 
gaze  was  sad  in  its  still  thoughtfulness,  such  as  oui-  feelings 
translate  of  the  light  of  evening. 

She  ceased,  and  he  said,  "  You  sing  on  the  night  of  the 
fifteenth  ?" 

"  I  do,  signore." 

"  It  is  your  first  appearance  ?" 

She  bent  her  head. 

"  And  you  will  be  prepared  on  that  night  to  sing  this 
song  ?" 

"  Yes,  signore." 

"  Save  in  the  event  of  your  being  forbidden  ?" 

•'  Unless  you  shall  forbid  me,  I  will  sing  it,  signore." 

"  Should  they  imprison  you  ? " 

"  If  they  shoot  me  I  shall  be  satisfied  to  know  that  I  have 
sung  a  song  that  cannot  be  forgotten." 

The  Chief  took  her  hand  in  a  gentle  grasp. 

"  Such  as  you  will  help  to  give  our  Italy  freedom.  You 
hold  the  sacred  flame,  and  know  you  hold  it  in  trust." 

"Friends," — he  turned  to  his  companions, — "you  have 
heard  what  will  be  the  signal  for  Milan." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AMMIANl's  INTERCESSION. 


It  was   a   surprise   to   all   of    them,    save    to    Agostino 
Balderiui,   who   passed  his  inspecting  glance  from  face  to 


AMMIANl's  INTERCESSION.  25 

face,  marking  the  effect  of  the  announcement.  Corte  gazed 
at  her  heavily,  but  not  altogether  disapprovingly.  Giulio 
Bandinelli  and  Marco  Sana,  tliongh^  evidently  astonished, 
and  to  som'?  extent  incredulous,  listened  like  the  perfectly 
trusty  lieutenants  in  an  enterprise  which  they  were.  But 
Carlo  Ammiani  stood  hori-or-stricken.  The  blood  had  left 
his  handsome  young*  olive-hued  face,  and  his  eyes  were  on 
the  signorina,  large  with  amazement,  from  which  they 
deepened  to  piteousness  of  entreaty. 

"  Signorina  ! — you  !  Can  it  be  true  ?  Do  you  kiiow  ? — 
do  yon  mean  it  ?" 

"  What,  signer  Carlo  ?" 

•'  This  ; — will  you  venture  to  do  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  Oh,  will  I  venture  ?  What  can  you  think  of  me  ?  It 
is  my  own  request." 

"  But,  signorina,  in  mercy,  listen  and  consider." 

Carlo  turned  impetuously  to  the  Chief.  "  The  signorina 
can't  know  the  danger  she  is  running.  She  will  be  seized 
on  the  boards,  and  shut  up  between  four  walls  before  a  man 
of  us  will  be  ready, — or  more  than  one,"  he  added  softly. 
"  The  house  is  sui-e  to  be  packed  for  a  first  night;  and  the 
Polizia  have  a  suspicion  of  her.  She  has  been  off  her  guard 
in  the  Conservatorio ;  she  has  talked  of  a  country  called 
Italy  ;  she  has  been  indiscreet ; — pardon,  pardon,  signorina  ! 
but  it  is  true  that  she  has  spoken  out  from  her  noble  heart. 
And  this  opera !  Are  they  fools  ? — they  must  see  through 
it.  It  will  never, — it  can't  possibly  be  reckoned  on  to  appear. 
I  knew  that  the  signorina  was  heart  and  soul  with  us  ;  but 
who  could  guess  that  her  object  was  to  sacrifice  herself  in 
the  front  rank, — to  lead  a  forlorn  liope !  I  tell  you  it's  like 
a  Pagan  rite.  You  are  positively  slaying  a  victim.  I  beg 
you  all  to  look  at  the  case  calmly !" 

A  burst  of  laughter  checked  him  ;  for  his  seniors  by  many 
years  could  not  hear  such  vetei-an's  counsel  from  a  huiried 
boy  without  being  shrewdly  touched  by  the  humour  of  it, 
wliile  one  or  two  threw  a  particular  irony  into  their  tones. 

"  When  we  do  slay  a  victim,  we  will  come  to  you  as  our 
augur,  my  Carlo,"  said  Agostino. 

Corte  was  less  gentle.  As  a,  Milanese  and  a  mere  youth 
Ammiani  was  antipathetic  to  Corte,  who  closed  his  laugliter 
with  a  windy  rattle  of  his  lips,  and  a  "  pish !"  of  some 
«nij)hasis. 


2G  VITTOKTA. 

Carlo  was  quick  to  give  him  a  challenging  frown. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  Corte  bent  his  head  back,  as  if  in- 
quiringly. 

"  It's  I  who  claim  that  question  by  right,"  said  Carlo. 

"You  are  a  boy." 

"  I  have  studied  war." 

"  In  books." 

"  With  brains,  Colonel  Corte." 

"  War  is  a  matter  of  blows,  my  little  lad." 

"  Let  me  inform  you,  signor  Colonel,  that  war  is  not  a 
fifamo  between  bulls,  to  be  played  with  the  horns  of  the 
head." 

"  You  are  prepared  to  instruct  me  ?"  The  fiery  Berga- 
masc  lifted  his  eyebrows. 

"  Nay,  nay  !"  said  Agostino.  "  Between  us  two  first ;" 
and  he  grasped  Carlo's  arm,  saying  in  an  underbreath, 
"  Your  last  retort  was  too  lonq-- winded.  In  these  conflicts 
you  must  be  quick,  sharp  as  a  rifle-crack  that  hits  echo  on 
the  breast-bone  and  makes  her  cry  out.  I  correct  a  student 
in  the  art  of  war."  Then  aloud  :  "  My  opera,  young  man  ! 
— well,  it's  my  libretto,  and  you  know  we  writers  always 
say  '  my  opera'  when  we  have  put  the  pegs  for  the  voice ; 
you  are  certainly  aware  that  we  do.  How  dare  you  to  make 
calumnious  observations  upon  my  opera  ?  Is  it  not  the  ripe 
and  admirable  fruit  of  five  years  of  confinement  ?  Are  not 
the  lines  sharp,  the  stanzas  solid  ?  and  the  stujf,  is  it  not 
good  ?  Is  not  the  subject  simple,  pure  from  offence  to 
sensitive  authority,  constitutionally  harmless  ?     Reply  !" 

"  It's  transparent  to  any  but  asses,"  said  Carlo. 

"  But  if  it  has  passed  the  censorship  ?  You  are  guilty, 
my  boy,  of  bestowing  upon  those  highly  disciplined  gentle- 
men who  govern  your  famous  city — what  title  ?  I  trust  a 
prophetic  one,  since  that  it  comes  from  an  animal  whoso 
custom  is  to  turn  its  back  before  it  delivers  a  blow,  and  is, 
they  remark,  fonder  of  encountering  dead  lions  than  live 
ones.  Still,  it  is  yon  who .  are  indiscreet, — eminently  so,  I 
must  add,  if  you  will  look  lofty.  If  my  opera  has  passed 
the  censorship  !  eh,  what  have  yon  to  say  ?" 

Carlo  endured  this  banter  till  the  end  of  it  came. 
"And  you — you    encourage    her!"    he    cried   wrathfully. 
"  Yon  know  what  the  danger  is  for  her,  if  they  once  lay 
hands  on  her.     They  will  have  her  in  Verona  in  four-and- 


AMWTANl's  mTEKCESRTOTSr.  27 

twenty  hours ;  througli  the  gates  of  the  Adigo  in  a  couple 
of  claj^s,  and  at  Spielberg,  or  some  other  of  their  infernal 
dens  of  groans,  Avithin  a  week.  Where  is  the  chance  of  a 
rescue  then  ?  They  torture,  too, — they  torture  !  It's  a 
woman  ;  and  insult  will  be  one  mode  of  torturing  her.  They 
can  use  rods " 

The  excited  Southern  youth  was  about  to  cover  his  face, 
but  caught  back  his  hands,  clenching  them. 

"All  this,"  said  Agostino,  "is  an  evasion,  manifestly,  of 
the  question  concerning  my  opera,  on  which  you  have 
thought  proper  to  cast  a  slur.  The  phrase,  '  transparent  to 
any  but  asses,'  may  not  be  absolutely  objectionable,  for 
transparency  is,  as  the  critics  rightly  insist,  meritorious  in 
a  composition.  And,  according  to  the  other  view,  if  we 
desire  our  clever  oj^ponents  to  see  nothing  in  something,  it 
is  notably  skilful  to  let  them  see  through  it.  You  perceive, 
my  Carlo.  Transparency,  then,  deserves  favourable  com- 
ment. So,  I  do  not  complain  of  your  phrase,  but  I  had  the 
unfortunate  privilege  of  hearing  it  uttered.  The  method 
of  delivery  scarcely  conveyed  a  compliment.  Will  you 
apologize  P" 

Carlo  burst  from  him  with  a  vehement  question  to  the 
Chief  :  "  Is  it  decided  ?  " 

"  It  is,  my  friend  ;  "  was  the  reply. 

"  Decided  !  She  is  doomed  !  Signorina  !  what  can  you 
know  of  this  frightful  risk  ?  You  are  going  to  the  slaughter. 
You  will  be  seized  before  the  first  verse  is  out  of  your  lips, 
and  once  in  their  clutches,  you  will  never  breathe  free  air 
again.  It's  madness  ! — ah,  forgive  me  ! — yes,  madness  !  For 
you  shut  your  eyes  ;  you  rush  into  the  trap  blindfolded. 
And  that  is  how  you  serve  our  Italy  !  She  sees  you  an 
instant,  and  you  are  caught  away ; — and  you  who  might 
serve  her,  if  you  would,  do  you  think  you  can  move  dungeon 
walls  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  if  I  have  been  once  seen,  I  shall  not  be  for- 
gotten,"  said  the  signorina  smoothly,  and  then  cast  her  eyes 
down,  as  if  she  felt  the  burden  of  a  little  possible  accusation 
of  vanity  in  this  remark.     She  raised  them  with  fire. 

"  No ;  never !  "  exclaimed  Carlo.  "  But,  now  you  are 
ours.     And — surely  it  is  not  quite  decided  ?  " 

He  had  si)oken  imploringly  to  the  Chief  "  Not  irrevo- 
cably ?  "  he  added. 


28  VITTOKIA, 

•'  Irrevocably ! " 

"  Then  she  is  lost !  " 

"  For  shame,  Carlo  Ammiani;  "  said  old  Agostino,  casting 
his  sententious  hnmonrs  aside.  "  Do  you  not  hear  ?  It  is 
decided  !  Do  you  wish  to  rob  her  of  her  courage,  and  see 
her  tremble  ?  It's  her  scheme  and  mine :  a  case  where 
an  old  head  approves  a  young  one.  The  Chief  say«  Yes ! 
and  you  bellow  still !     Is  it  a  Milanese  trick  ?     Be  silent." 

"  Be  silent !  "  echoed  Carlo.  "  Do  you  remember  the  beast 
Marschatska's  bet  ?  "  The  allusion  was  to  a  black  incident 
concerning  a  young  Italian  ballet  girl  who  had  been  cai'ried 
off  by  an  Austrian  officer,  undei"  the  pretext  of  her  complicity 
in  one  of  the  antecedent  conspiracies. 

*'  He  rendered  payment  for  it,"  said  Agostino. 

"He  pex'ished ;  yes!  as  we  shake  dust  to  the  winds;  but 
Bhe  ! — it's  terrible  !  You  place  women  in  the  front  ranks — 
girls !  What  can  defenceless  creatures  do  ?  Would  you 
let  the  van-regiment  in  battle  be  the  one  without  weapons  ? 
It's  slaughter.  She's  like  a  lamb  to  them.  You  hold  up 
your  jewel  to  the  enemy,  and  cry,  '  Come  and  take  it.' 
Think  of  the  insults  !  think  of  the  rough  hands,  and  foul 
mouths  !     She  will  be  seized  on  the  boards " 

"  Not  if  you  keep  your  tongue  from  wagging,"  interposed 
Ugo  Corte,  fevered  by  this  unseasonable  exhibition  of  what 
was  to  him  manifestly  a  lover's  frenzied  selfishness.  He 
moved  off,  indifferent  to  Carlo's  retort.  Marco  Sana  and 
Giulio  Bandinelli  were  already  talking  aside  with  the  Chief. 

"  Signor  Carlo,  not  a  hand  shall  touch  me,"  said  the 
signorina.  "  And  1  am  not  a  lamb,  though  it  is  good  of  you 
to  think  me  ojie.  I  passed  through  the  streets  of  Milan  in 
the  last  rising.  I  was  unharmed.  You  must  have  sorpe 
confidence  in  me." 

"  Signorina,  there's  the  danger,"  rejoined  Carlo.  "  You 
trust  to  your  good  angels  once,  twice — the  third  time  they 
fail  you  !  What  are  you  among  a  host  of  armed  savages  ? 
You  would  be  tossed  like  weed  on  the  sea.  In  pity,  do  not 
look  so  scornfiilly !  l^o,  there  is  no  unjust  meaning  in  it ; 
but  you  despise  me  for  seeing  danger.  Can  nothing  persuade 
you  ?  And,  besides,"  he  addressed  the  Chief,  who  alone 
betrayed  no  signs  of  weariness ;  "  listen,  I  beg  of  you. 
Milan  wants  no  more  than  a  signal.  She  does  not  require 
to  be  excited.     I  came  charged  with  several  propositions  for 


AMMIANl's  INTERCESSION.  29 

giving  the  alarm.  Attend,  you  others !  The  night  of  the 
Fifteenth  comes  ;  it  is  passing  like  an  ordinary  night.  At 
twelve  a  fire-balloon  is  seen  in  the  sky.  Listen,  in  the  name 
of  saints  and  devils  !  " 

But  even  the  Chief  was  observed  to  show  signs  of  amuse- 
ment, and  the  gravity  of  the  rest  forsook  them  altogether  at 
the  display  of  this  profound  and  original  conspiratorial 
notion. 

"  Excellent !  excellent !  my  Carlo,"  said  old  Agostino, 
cheerfully.  "  You  have  thought.  You  mast  have  thought, 
or  whence  such  a  conception  ?  But,  you  really  mistake.  It 
is  not  the  garrison  whom  we  desire  to  put  on  their  guard. 
By  no  means.  We  are  not  in  the  Imperial  pay.  Probably 
your  balloon  is  to  burst  in  due  time,  and,  wind  permitting, 
disperse  printed  papers  all  over  the  city  ?  " 

"  What  if  it  is  ?  "  cried  Carlo  fiercely. 

"  Exactly.  I  have  divined  your  idea.  You  have  thought, 
or,  to  correct  the  tense,  are  thinking,  which  is  more  hopeful, 
though  it  may  chance  not  to  seem  so  meritorious.  But,  if 
yours  are  the  ideas  of  full-blown  jackets,  bear  in  mind 
that  our  enemies  are  coated  and  breeched.  It  may  bo 
creditable  to  you  that  your  cunning  is  not  the  cunning  of  tho 
serpent ;  to  us  it  would  be  more  valuable  if  it  were.  Con- 
tinue." 

"  Oh  !  there  are  a  thousand  ways."  Carlo  controlled  him- 
self with  a  sharp  screw  of  all  his  muscles.  "  I  simply  wish 
to  save  the  signorina  from  an  annoyance." 

"Very  mildly  put,"  Agostino  murmured  assentingly. 

"  In  our  Journal,"  said  Carlo,  holding  out  the  palm  of  one 
liand  to  dot  the  forefinger  of  the  other  across  it,  by  way  of 
])ersonal  illustration — "  in  our  Journal  we  might  arrange  for 
certain  letters  to  recur  at  distinct  intervals  in  Roman 
capitals,  which  might  spell  out,  '  THIS  NIGHT  AT  twelve,'  or 
'at  one.' 

"  Quite  as  ingenious,  but  on  the  present  occasion  erring  on 
the  side  of  intricacy.  Aha  !  you  waiit  to  inci'case  the  sale  of 
your  Journal,  do  you,  my  boy  ?     The  rogue  !" 

With  wliich,  and  a  liglit  slap  over  Carlo's  shoulder, 
Agostino  left  him. 

The  aspect  of  his  ov/n  futile  propositions  stared  the  young 
man  in  the  face  too  forcil^ly  I'oi  him  to  nurse  tho  s{)a'-k  nF 
resentment    whii;h    was  struck    out    in    the    turmoil    cf   his 


."^O  VITTOBIA. 

bosom.     He  veered,  as  if  to  follow  Agostino,  and  remained 
midway,  his  cliest  heaving,  and  his  eyelids  shut. 

"  Signer  Carlo,  I  have  not  thanked  yon."  He  hoard 
Vittoria  speak.  "  I  know  that  a  woman  should  never 
attempt  to  do  men's  work.  The  Chief  will  tell  you  that  we 
must  all  serve  now,  and  all  do  our  best.  If  we  fail,  and  they 
put  me  to  great  indignity,  1  promise  you  that  I  will  not'live. 
I  would  give  this  up  to  be  done  by  any  one  else  who  could  do 
it  better.  It  is  in  my  hands,  and  my  friends  must  encoui-age 
me." 

"  Ah,  signorina !"  the  young  man  sighed  bitterly.  The 
knowledge  that  he  had  already  betrayed  himself  in  the  pre- 
ssnce  of  others  too  far,  and  the  sob  in  his  throat  labouring 
to  escape,  kept  him  still. 

A  warning  call  from  Ugo  Corte  drew  their  attention. 
Close  by  the  chalet  where  the  first  climbers  of  the  mountain 
had  refreshed  themselves,  Beppo  was  seen  struggling  to 
secure  the  arms  of  a  man  in  a  high-crowned  green  Swiss  hat, 
who  was  apparently  disposed  to  give  the  signorina's  faithful 
servant  some  trouble.  After  gazing  a  minute  at  this  sin- 
gular contention,  she  cried — 

"  It's  the  same  who  follows  me  everywhere  !" 

"  And  you  will  not  believe  you  are  suspected,"  murmured 
Carlo  in  her  ear. 

"  A  spy  P"  Sana  queried,  showing  keen  joy  at  the  prospect 
of  scotching  such  a  reptile  on  the  lonely  height. 

Corte  went  up  to  the  Chief.  They  spoke  briefly  together, 
making  use  of  notes  and  tracings  on  paper.  The  Cliicf  then 
said  "  Adieu"  to  the  signorina.  It  was  explained  to  the  rest 
by  Corte  that  he  had  a  meeting  to  attend  near  Pella  about 
noon,  and  must  be  in  Fobello  before  midnight.  Thence  his 
way  would  be  to  Genoa. 

"  So,  you  are  resolved  to  give  another  trial  to  our  crowned 
ex-Carbonaro,"  said  Agostino. 

"  Without  leavins:  him  an  initiative  this  time !"  and  the 
Chief  embraced  the  old  man.  "  You  know  me  upon  that 
point.  I  cannot  trust  him.  I  do  not.  But,  if  we  make  such 
a  tide  in  Lombardy  that  his  army  must  be  drawn  into  it,  is 
such  an  army  to  be  refused  ?  First,  the  tide,  my  friend ! 
See  to  that." 

"  The  king  is  our  instrument !"  cried  Carlo  Ammiani, 
bi'ightcning. 


THE  SPY.  31 

"  Yes,  if  we  were  particularly  well  skilled  in  tlie  use  of 
tliat  kind  of  instrument,"  Ag'ostino  muttered. 

He  stood  apart  "vvliile  the  Chief  said  a  few  words  to  Carlo, 
which  made  the  blood  play  vividly  across  the  visage  of  the 
youth.  Carlo  tried  humbly  to  expostulate  once  or  twice. 
In  the  end  his  head  was  bowed,  and  he  signified  a  dumb 
acquiescence. 

"  Once  more,  good-bye."  The  Chief  addressed  the  signorina 
in  English. 

She  replied  in  the  same  tongue,  "  Good-bye,"  tremulously; 
and  passion  mounting  on  it,  added — "  Oh  !  when  shall  I  see 
you  again  ?" 

"  When  Rome  is  purified  to  be  a  fit  place  for  such  as 
you." 

In  another  minute  he  was  hidden  on  the  slope  of  the 
mountain  lying  toward  Orta. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  SPY. 


Beppo  had  effected  a  firm  capture  of  his  man  some  way 
down  the  slope.  But  it  was  a  case  of  check  that  entirely 
precluded  his  own  free  movements.  They  hung  together 
intertwisted  in  the  characters  of  specious  pacificator  and 
appealing  citizen,  both  breathless. 

"  There  !  you  want  to  hand  me  up  neatly ;  I  know  your 
vanity,  my  Beppo  ;  and  you  don't  even  know  my  name,"  said 
the  prisoner. 

"  I  know  your  ferret  of  a  face  well  enough,"  said  Beppo. 
"You  dog  the  signorina.     Come  up,  and  don't  give  trouble." 

"Ami  not  a  sheep  ?     You  worry  me.     Lot  nie  go." 

"You're  a  wriggling  eel." 

"Catch  me  fast  by  the  tail  then,  and  don't  hold  me  by 
the  middle." 

"  You  want  fi-ightening,  my  pretty  fellow  !" 

"If  that's  trae,  my  Beppo,  somebody  made  a  mistake  in 
sending  you  to  do  it.     Stop  a  moment.     You're  bluvvii.     T 


32  VITTORIA. 

think  you  gulp  down  your  minestra  too  hot ;  you  drink 
beer." 

"  You  dog  the  signorina !     I  swore  to  scotch  you  at  last." 

"  I  left  Milan  for  the  purpose — don't  you  see  ?  Act  fairly, 
my  Beppo,  and  let  us  go  up  to  the  signorina  together 
decently." 

"Ay,  ay,  my  little  reptile  !  You'll  find  no  Austrians  here. 
Cry  out  to  them  to  come  to  you  from  Laveno.  If  the  Motte- 
rone  grew  just  one  tree  !     Saints  !  one  would  serve." 

"  Why  don't  you — fool  that  you  ai^e,  my  Ceppo  ! — pray  to 
the  saints  earlier  ?     Trees  don't  grow  from  heaven." 

"  You'll  bo  going  there  soon,  and  you'll  know  better  about 
it." 

"  Thanks  to  the  Virgin,  then,  we  shall  part  at  some  timisr 
or  other !" 

The  struggles  between  them  continued  sharply  during  this 
exchange  of  intellectual  shots  ;  but  hearing  Ugo  Corte'^ 
voice,  the  prisoner's  confident  audacity  forsook  him,  and  he 
drew  a  long  tight  face  like  the  mask  of  an  admonitory 
exclamation  addressed  to  himself  from  within. 

"  Stand  up  straight !"  the  soldier's  command  was  uttered. 

Even  Beppo  was  amazed  to  see  that  the  man  had  lost  the 
power  to  obey  or  to  speak. 

Corte  gi^asped  him  under  the  arm-pit.  With  the  force  of 
his  huge  fist  he  swung  him  round  and  stretched  him  out 
at  arm's  length,  all  collar  and  shanks.  The  man  hung  like 
a  mole  from  the  twig.  Yet,  while  Beppo  poured  out  the 
tale  of  his  iniquities,  his  eyes  gave  the  turn  of  a  twinkle, 
showing  that  he  could  have  answered  one  whom  he  did  not 
fear.  The  charge  brought  against  him  was,  that  for  the 
last   six   months    he    had    been    untiringly    spying    on    the 


signorina. 


Corte  stamped  his  loose  feet  to  earth,  shook  him  and  told 
him  to  walk  aloft.  The  flexible  voluble  fellow  had  evidently 
become  miscral)ly  disconcerted.  Be  walked  in  trepidation, 
speechless,  and  when  interrogated  on  the  height  his  eyea 
flew  across  the  angry  visages  with  dismal  uncertainty. 
Agostino  perceived  that  he  had  undoubtedly  not  expected  to 
come  among  them,  and  forthwith  began  to  excite  Giulio  and 
Marco  to  the  worst  suspicions,  in  order  to  indulg-e  his  royal 
poetic  soul  with  a  study  of  a  timorous  wretch  pushed  to 
anticipations  of  extremity. 


THE  SPY.  33 

"The  execution  o£  a  spy,"  he  preluded,  "is  the  signal  for 
the  ringing  of  joy-bells  on  this  earth  ;  not  only  because  he 
is  one  of  a  pestiferous  excess,  in  point  of  numbci'S,  but  that 
he  is  no  true  son  of  earth.  He  escaped  out  of  hell's  doors 
on  a  windy  day,  and  all  that  we  do  is  to  puff  out  a  bad  light, 
and  send  him  back.  Look  at  this  fellow  in  whom  conscience 
is  ojjerating  so  that  he  appears  like  a  corked  volcano  !  You 
can  see  that  he  takes  Aiistrian  money  ;  his  skin  has  got  to 
be  the  exact  colour  of  Miinz.  He  has  the  greenish-yellow 
eyes  of  those  elective,  thrice-abhorred  vampyreB  who  feed 
on  patriot-blood.  He  is  condemned  without  trial  by  his 
villanous  countenance,  like  an  ungrammatical  preface  to  a 
book.  His  tongue  refuses  to  confess,  but  nature  is  stronger: 
— observe  his  knees.  Now  this  is  guilt.  It  is  execrable 
guilt.  He  is  a  nasty  object.  Nature  has  in  her  wisdom 
shortened  his  stature  to  indicate  that  it  is  left  to  us  to 
shorten  the  growth  of  his  offending  years.  Now,  you  dang- 
ling soul !  answer  me : — what  name  hailed  you  when  on 
earth  ?" 

The  man,  with  no  clearly  serviceable  tongue,  articulated, 
"Luigi." 

"  Luigi  !  the  name  Christian  and  distinctive.  The  name 
historic  : — Luigi  Porco  ?" 

"  Luigi  Saracco,  sio'uore." 

"  Saracco  :  Sai-acco  :  very  possibly  a  strip  of  the  posterity 
of  cut-throat  Moors.  To  judge  by  your  face,  a  Moor  un- 
doubtedly :  glib,  slippery !  with  a  body  that  slides  and  a 
soul  that  jumps.  Taken  altogether,  more  serpent  than 
eagle.  I  misdoubt  that  little  quick  cornering  eye  of  yours. 
Do  you  ever  "remember  to  have  blushed  ?" 

"  No,  signoi-e,"  said  Luigi. 

"  You  spy  upon  the  signorina,  do  you  ?" 

"  You  have  Beppo's  word  for  that,"  interposed  Marco 
Sana,  growling. 

"  And  you  are  found  spying  on  the  mountain  this  parti- 
cular day !  Luigi  Saracco,  you  are  a  fellow  of  a  tremendous 
composition.  A  goose  walking  into  a  den  of  foxes  is  alone 
to  1)6  compared  to  you, — if  ever  such  goose  was!  How  many 
of  us  did  you  count,  now,  when  you  were,  say,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  below  ?" 

Mfi.rco  interposed  again :  "  Ho  has  already  seen  enough  up 
here  to  make  a  rope  of  florins." 

D 


34  VITTOUIA. 

"  Tlio  fellow's  eye  takes  likenesses,"  said  Giulio. 

Agostino's  question  was  repeated  by  Corte,  and  so  sternly 
tliat  Luigi,  Leliolding  kindness  upon  no  other  face  save 
Vittoria's,  watched  her,  and  muttering  "  Six,"  blinked  his 
keen  black  eyes  piteously  to  get  her  sign  of  assent  to  his 
hesitated  naming  of  that  number.  Her  mouth  and  the  turn 
of  her  head  were  expressive  to  him,  and  he  cried  "  Seven." 

"  So  ;  first  six,  and  next  seven,"  said  Corte. 

"  Six,  I  meant,  without  the  signorina,"  Luigi  explained. 

"  You  saw  six  of  us  without  the  signorina  !  You  see  we 
are  six  here,  including  the  signorina.  Where  is  the 
seventh  ?" 

Luigi  tried  to  penetrate  Vittoria's  eyes  for  a  proper 
response ;  but  she  understood  the  grave  necessity  for  getting 
the  full  extent  of  his  observations  out  of  him,  and  she  looked 
as  remorseless  as  the  men.  He  feig-ned  stupidity  and  sullen- 
ness,  rage  and  cuaning,  in  quick  succession. 

"  WJio  was  the  seventh  ?"  said  Carlo. 

"  Was  it  the  king  ?"  Luigi  asked. 

This  was  by  just  a  little  too  clever ;  and  its  cleverness, 
being  seen,  magnified  the  intended  evasion  so  as  to  make  it 
appear  to  them  that  Luigi  knew  well  the  name  of  the 
seventh. 

Marco  thumped  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  shouting — 

"  Here  ;  speak  out  !  Tou  saw  seven  of  us.  Where  has 
the  seventh  one  gone  ?" 

Luigi's  wits "  made  a  dash  at  honesty.  "  Down  Orta, 
signore." 

"  And  down  Orta,  I  think,  you  will  go ;  deeper  down  than 
you  may  like." 

Corte  now  requested  Yittoria  to  stand  aside.  He  motioned 
to  her  with  his  hand  to  stand  farther,  and  still  farther  oft ; 
and  finally  told  Carlo  to  escort  her  to  Baveno.  She  now 
began  to  think  that  the  man  Liiigi  was  in  some  perceptible 
danger,  nor  did  Ammiani  disperse  the  idea. 

"  If  he  is  a  spy,  and  if  he  has  seen  the  Chief,  we  shall 
have  to  detain  him  for  at  least  four  and  twenty  hours,"  he 
said,  "  or  do  worse." 

"But,  Signer  Carlo,"— Vitfcoria  made  appeal  to  his 
humanity, — "  do  the}-  mean,  if  they  decide  that  he  is  guilty, 
to  hurt  him?" 


THE  SPY.  35 

"  Tell  me,  signorina,  what  punishment  do  you  imagine  a 
spy  deserves?" 

"  To  be  called  one !" 

Carlo  smiled  at  her  lofty  method  of  dealing  with  the 
animal. 

"  Then  you  presume  him  to  have  a  conscience  ?" 

"  I  am  sure,  Signer  Carlo,  that  I  could  make  him  loathe  to 
be  called  a  spy." 

They  were  slowly  pacing  from  the  group,  and  were  on  the 
edge  of  the  descent,  when  the  signorina's  name  was  shrieked 
by  Luigi.  The  man  came  running  to  her  for  protection, 
Beppo  and  the  rest  at  his  heels.  She  allowed  him  to  grasp 
her  hand. 

"After  all,  he  is  my  spy;  he  does  belong  to  me,"  she  said, 
still  speaking  on  to  Carlo.  "  I  must  beg  yom-  permission. 
Colonel  Corte  and  Signer  Marco,  to  try  an  experiment.  The 
Signor  Carlo  will  not  believe  that  a  spy  can  be  ashamed  of 
his  name. — Luigi!" 

"Signorina!" — he  shook  his  body  over  her  hand  with  a 
most  plaintive  utterance. 

"You  are  my  countryman,  Luigi?" 

"Yes,  signorina." 

"You  are  an  Italian  ?" 

"  Certainly,  signorina !" 

"A  spy!" 

Yittoria  had  not  always  to  lift  her  voice  in  music  for  it  to 
sway  the  hearts  of  men.  She  spoke  the  word  very  simply 
in  a  mellow  soft  tone.  Luigi's  blood  shot  purple.  Ho 
thrust  his  fists  agaiust  his  ears. 

"  See,  Signor  Carlo,"  she  said :  "  I  was  right.  Luigi,  you 
•will  be  a  spy  no  more  ?" 

Carlo  Ammiani  happened  to  be  rolling  a  cigarette-paper. 
She  put  out  her  fingers  for  it,  and  then  reached  it  to  Luigi, 
who  accepted  it  with  singular  contortions  of  his  frame, 
declaring  that  he  would  confess  everything  to  her.  "  Yes, 
signorina,  it  is  true ;  I  am  a  spy  on  you.  I  know  the  houses 
you  visit.  I  know  you  eat  too  much  cliocolate  for  your 
voice.  I  know  you  are  the  friend  of  the  signora  Laura,  the 
widow  of  Giacomo  Piaveni,  shot — shot  on  Annunciafon 
Day.  The  Virgin  bless  him  !  I  know  the  turning  of  every 
street  from  your  house  near  the  Duomo  to  the  signora's. 
You  go  nowhere   else,  except  to  the  maestro's.       And  it's 

D  2 


36  vmouiA. 

something'  to  spy  upon  ymi.  But  think  of  your  Beppo  who 
spies  upon  me !  And  your  little  mother,  the  lady  most 
excellent,  is  down  in  Baveno,  and  she  is  always  near  you 
when  you  make  an  expedition.  Signorina,  I  know  you  would 
not  pay  your  Beppo  for  spying  upon  me.  Why  does  he  do 
it?  I  do  not  sing  'Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free!'  I  have 
heard  you  when  I  was  under  the  maestro's  windows ;  and 
once  you  sang  it  to  the  Signor  Agostino  Balderini.  Indeed, 
signorina,  I  am  a  sort  of  guardian  of  your  voice.  It  is 
not  gold  of  the  Tedeschi  I  get  from  the  signor  Antonio- 
Pericles " 


At  the  mention  of  this  name,  Agostino  and  Vittoria 
laughed  out. 

"  You  are  in  the  pay  of  the  signor  Antonio-Pericles,"  said 
Agostino.  "  Without  being  in  our  pay,  you  have  done  us 
the  service  to  come  up  here  among  us  ?  Bravo  !  In  return 
for  your  disinterestedness,  we  kick  you  down,  either  upon 
Baveno  or  upon  Stresa,  or  across  the  lake,  if  you  prefer  it. 
— The  man  is  harmless.  He  is  hired  by  a  particular 
worshipper  of  the  signorina's  voice,  who  affects  to  have  first 
discovered  it  when  she  was  in  England,  and  is  a  connoisseur, 
a  millionaire,  a  Greek,  a  I'ich  scoundrel,  with  one  indubitable 
passion,  for  which  I  praise  him.  We  will  let  his  paid  eaves- 
dropper depart,  I  think.     He  is  harmless." 

Neither  Ugo  nor  Marco  were  disposed  to  allow  any  de- 
scription of  spy  to  escape  unscotched.  Vittoria  saw  that 
Luigi's  looks  were  against  him,  and  whispered :  "  Why  do 
you  show  such  cunning  eyes,  Luigi  ?" 

He  replied:  "Signorina,  take  me  out  of  their  hearing, 
and  I  will  tell  you  everything." 

She  walked  aside.  He  seemed  immediately  to  be  inspired 
with  confidence,  and  stretched  his  iingers  in  the  form  of  a 
grasshopper,  at  which  sight  they  cried  :  "  He  knows  Barto 
Rizzo — this  rascal !"  They  plied  him  with  signs  and 
countersigns,  and  speedily  let  him  go.  There  ensued  a 
sharp  snapping  of  altercation  between  Luigi  and  Beppo. 
Vittoria  had  to  order  Beppo  to  stand  back. 

"  It  is  a  poor  dog,  not  of  a  good  breed,  signorina,"  Luigi 
said,  casting  a  tolerant  glance  over  his  shoulder.  "  Faithful, 
but  a  poor  nose.  Ah  !  you  gave  me  this  cigarette.  Not  tho 
Virgin  could  have  touched  my  mari'ow  as  you  did.  That's 
to  be  remembered  by-and-by.     Now,  you  are  going  ■  to  sing 


THE  SPY.  37 

on  the  nis^ht  of  tlie  fifteenth  of  September.  Change  that 
night.  The  signer  Antonio-Pericles  watches  you,  and  he  is 
a  friend  of  the  Grovernment,  and  the  Government  is  snoring 
for  Tou  to  think  it  asleep.  The  signor  Antonio-Pericles 
pacifies  the  Tedeschi,  but  he  will  know  all  that  yon  are 
doing,  and  how  easy  it  will  be,  and  how  simple,  for  yon  to 
let  me  know  what  you  think  he  ought  to  know,  and  just 
enough  to  keep  him  comfortable !  So  we  work  like  a 
machine,  signorina.  Only,  not  through  that  Beppo,  for  he 
is  vain  of  his  legs,  and  his  looks,  and  his  service,  and  because 
he  has  carried  a  gun  and  heard  it  go  off.  Yes  ;  I  am  a  spy. 
But  I  am  honest.  I,  too,  have  visited  England.  '  One  can 
be  honest  and  a  spy.  Signorina,  I  have  two  arms,  but  only 
one  heart.  If  you  will  be  gracious  and  consider !  Say,  here 
are  two  hands.  One  hand  does  this  thing,  one  hand  does 
that  thing,  and  that  thing  wipes  out  this  thing.  It  amounts 
to  clear  reasoning  !  Here  are  two  eyes.  Were  they  meant 
to  see  nothins:  but  one  side  !  Here  is  a  tonorue  with  a  line 
down  the  middle  almost  to  the  tip  of  it — which  is  for  service. 
That  Beppo  couldn't  deal  double,  if  he  w^ould ;  for  he  is 
imperfectly  designed — a  mere  dog's  pattern !  But,  only 
one  heart,  signorina — mind  that.  I  will  never  fore-et  the 
cigarette.  I  shall  smoke  it  before  I  leave  the  mountain, 
and  think— oh!" 

Having  illustrated  the  philosophy  of  his  system,  Luigi 
continued  :  "  I  am  going  to  tell  you  everything.  Pray,  do 
not  look  on  Beppo  !  This  is  important.  The  signor  Antonio- 
Pericles  sent  me  to  spy  on  you,  because  he  expects  some 
people  to  come  up  the  mountain,  and  you  know  them ;  and 
one  is  an  Austrian  officer,  and  he  is  an  Englishman  by  birth, 
and  he  is  coming  to  meet  some  English  friends  who  enter 
Italy  from  Switzerland  over  the  Moro,  and  easily  up  here  on 
mules  or  donkeys  from  Pella.  The  signor  Antonio- Pericles 
has  gold  ears  for  everything  that  concerns  the  signorina. 
'A  patriot  is  she!'  he  says  ;  and  he  is  jealous  of  your  English 
friends.  He  thinks  they  will  distract  you  from  your  studies  ; 
and  perhaps " — Luigi  nodded  sagaciously  before  he  per- 
mitted himself  to  say — "perhaps  he  is  jealous  in  another 
"way.  I  have  heard  him  speak  like  a  sonnet  of  the  signorina's 
beauty.  The  signor  Antonio  Pericles  thinks  that  you  have 
come  here  to-day  to  meet  them.  When  he  heard  that  you 
■were  going  to  leave  Milan  for  BavOQO,  he  was  mad,  and  with 


38  VITTOKIA. 

two  fists  Tip,  against  all  English  persons.  The  Englishman 
who  is  an  Austrian  officer  is  quartered  at  Verona,  and  the 
signor  Antonio-Pericles  said  that  the  Englishman  should  not 
meet  you  yet,  if  he  could  help  it." 

Vittoria  stood  brooding.  "  Who  can  it  be, — who  is  an 
Englishman,  and  an  Austrian  officer,  and  knows  me  ?  " 

"  Signorina,  I  don't  know  names.  Behold,  that  Beppo  is 
approaching  like  the  snow !  What  I  entreat  is,  that  the 
signorina  will  wait  a  little  for  the  English  party,  if  they 
come,  so  that  I  may  have  something  to  tell  my  patron. 
To  invent  upon  nothing  is  most  unpleasant,  and  the  signer 
Antonio  can  soon  perceive  whether  one  swims  with  corks. 
Signorina,  I  can  dance  on  one  rope — I  am  a  man.  I  am 
not  a  midge — I  cannot  dance  upon  nothing." 

The  days  of  Yittoria's  youth  had  been  passed  in  England 
It  was  not  unknown  to  her  that  old  English  friends  were  on 
the  way  to  Italy ;  the  recollection  of  a  quiet  and  a  buried 
time  put  a  veil  across  her  features.  She  was  perplexed 
by  the  mention  of  the  Austrian  officer  by  Luigi,  as  one  may 
be  who  divines  the  truth  too  surely,  but  will  not  accept  it 
for  its  loathsomeness.  There  were  Englishmen  in  the  army 
of  Austria.  Could  one  of  them  be  this  one  whom  she  had 
cared  for  when  she  was  a  girl  ?  It  seemed  hatefully  cruel 
to  him  to  believe  it.  She  spoke  to  Agostino,  begging  him  to 
remain  with  her  on  the  height  awhile  to  see  whether  the 
signor  Antonio-Pericles  was  right ;  to  see  whether  Luigi 
was  a  truth-teller ;  to  see  whether  these  English  persons 
were  really  coming.  "  Because,"  she  said,  "  if  they  do 
come,  it  will  at  once  dissolve  any  suspicions  you  may  have 
of  this  Luigi.  Aud  I  always  long  so  much  to  know  if 
the  signor  Antonio  is  correct.  I  have  never  yet  known 
him  to  be  wi-ong." 

"And  you  want  to  see  these  English,"  said  Agostino.  Ho 
frowned. 

"  Only  to  hear  them.  They  shall  not  recognize  me.  I 
have  now  another  name ;  and  I  am  changed.  My  hat  is 
enough  to  hide  me.  Let  me  hear  them  talk  a  little.  You 
and  the  signor  Carlo  will  stay  with  me,  and  when  they  come, 
if  they  do  come,  I  will  remain  no  longer  than  just  sufficient 
to  make  sure.  I  would  refuse  to  know  any  of  them  before 
the  night  of  the  fifteenth  ;  I  want  my  strength  too  much. 
I  shall  have  to  hear  a  misery  from  themj — I  know  it ;    I 


THE  SPY.  39 

feel  it ;  it  turns  my  blood.  But  let  me  hear  their  voices  ! 
England  is  half  my  country,  though  I  am  so  willing-  to 
forget  her  and  give  all  my  life  to  Italy.  Stay  with  me,  dear 
friend,  my  best  father  !  humour  me,  for  you  know  that  I  am 
always  charming-  when  I  am  humoured." 

Agostino  pressed  his  finger  on  a  dimple  in  her  cheeks. 
"  You  can  afford  to  make  such  a  confession  as  that  to  a 
greybeard.  The  day  is  your  own.  Bear  in  mind  that  you 
are  so  situated  that  it  will  be  prudent  for  you  to  have  no 
fresh  relations,  either  with  foreigners  or  others,  until  your 
work  is  done, — in  which,  my  dear  child,  may  God  bless 
you!" 

"  I  pray  to  him  with  all  my  might,"  Vittoria  said  in  reply. 

After  a  consultation  with  Agostino,  Ugo  Corte  and  Marco 
and  Giulio  bade  their  adieux  to  her.  The  task  of  keeping 
Luid^i  from  their  clutches  was  difficult ;  but  Agostino  helped 
her  in  that  also.  To  assure  them,  after  his  fashion,  of  tho 
harmlessness  of  Luigi,  he  seconded  him  in  a  contest  of  wit 
against  Beppo,  and  the  little  fellow,  now  that  he  had  shaken 
off  his  fears,  displayed  a  quickness  of  retort  and  a  liveliness 
"  unknown  to  professional  spies  and  impossible  to  the  race," 
said  Agostino ;  "  so  absolutely  is  the  mind  of  man  blunted 
by  Austrian  gold.  We  know  that  for  a  fact.  Beppo  is  no 
match  for  him.  Beppo  is  sententious  ;  ponderously  illustra- 
tive ;  he  can't  turn ;  he  is  long-winded ;  he,  I  am  afraid,  my 
Carlo,  studies  the  journals.  He  has  got  your  journalistic 
style,  wherein  words  of  six  syllables  form  the  relief  to  words 
of  eight,  and  hardly  one  dares  to  stand  by  itself.  They  aro 
like  huge  boulders  across  a  brook.  The  ineaning,  do  you  see, 
would  run  of  itself,  but  you  give  us  these  impedimenting 
big  stones  to  help  us  over  it,  while  we  profess  to  understand 
you  by  implication.  For  my  part,  I  own,  that  to  me,  your 
parliamentary,  illegitimate  academic,  modern  crocodile 
phraseology,  which  is  formidable  in  the  jaws,  impenctrablo 
on  tho  back,  can't  circumvent  a  comer,  and  is  enabled  to 
enter  a  common  understanding  solely  by  having  a  special 
highway  prepared  for  it, — in  short,  the  writing  in  your 
journals  is  too  much  for  me.  Beppo  here  is  an  example  that 
the  style  is  useless  for  controversy.  This  Luigi  baffles  him 
at  every  step." 

"  Some,"  rejoined  Carlo,  "  say  that  Beppo  has  had  the 
virtue  to  make  you  his  study." 


40  VITTOEIA. 

Agostino  fhrow  himRclf  on  his  back  and  closed  his  eyes. 
"  That,  then,  is  more  than  you  have  done,  signor  Tuquoque. 
Look  on  the  Berniua  yonder,  and  fancy  you  behohl  a  I'ouc  of 
phantom  Goths ;  a  sleepy  rout,  new  risen,  with  the  blood  of 
old  battles  on  their  shroud-shirts,  and  a  Noi-th-east  wind 
blowing  them  upon  our  fat  land.  Or  take  a  turn  at  the 
other  side  toward  Orta,  and  look  out  for  another  invasion, 
by  means  so  picturesque,  but  preferable.  Tourists  !  Do  you 
hear  them  ?" 

Carlo  Ammiani  had  descried  the  advanced  troop  of  a 
pi'ocession  of  gravely-heated  climbers — ladies  upon  donkeys, 
and  pedestrian  guards  stalking  beside  them,  with  courier, 
and  lacqueys,  and  baskets  of  provisions,  all  bearing  the 
stamp  of  pilgrims  from  the  great  Western  Island. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    WARNING. 

A  MOUNTAIN  ascended  by  these  children  of  the  forcible 
Isle,  is  a  mountain  to  be  captured,  and  colonized,  and 
absolutely  occujDied  for  a  term ;  so  that  Vittoria  soon  found 
herself  and  her  small  body  of  adherents  observed,  and  even 
exclaimed  against,  as  a  sort  of  intruding  aborigines,  whose 
presence  entirely  dispelled  the  sense  of  romantic  dominion 
which  a  mighty  eminence  should  give,  and  which  Britons 
expect  when  they  have  expended  a  portion  of  their  energies. 
The  exclaniations  were  not  complimentary ;  nevertheless, 
Vittoria  listened  with  pleased  ears,  as  one  listens  by  a 
brookside  near  an  old  home,  hearing  a  music  of  memory 
rather  than  common  words.  They  talked  of  heat,  of  appe- 
tite, of  chill,  of  thirst,  of  the  splendour  of  the  prospect,  of 
the  anticipations  of  good  hotel  accommodation  below,  of  the 
sadness  superinduced  by  the  reflection  that  in  these  days 
people  were  found  everywhere,  and  poetry  was  thwarted; 
again  of  heat,  again  of  thirst,  of  beailty,  and  of  chill.  There 
"was  the  enunciation  of  matronly  advice  ;  there  Avas  the 
outcry  of  gii'lish  insubordination;  there  were  sighings  for 
English  ale,  and  namings  of  the  visible  ranges  of  peaks,  and 


THE  WARNING.  41 

indicatings  of  geographical  fingers  to  show  whore  Switzer- 
land and  Piedmont  met,  and  Austria  held  her  gi^asp  on 
Lombardy ;  and  "  to  this  point  we  go  to-night ;  yonder  to- 
morrow ;  farther  the  next  day,"  was  uttei-ed,  soberly  or  with 
excitement,  as  befitted  the  age  of  the  speaker. 

Among  these  tourists  there  was  one  very  fair  English 
lady,  with  long  auburn  cui*ls  of  the  traditionally  English 
pattern,  and  the  science  of  Paris  displayed  in  her  bonnet  and 
dress ;  which,  if  not  as  graceful  as  severe  admirers  of  the 
antique  in  statuary  or  of  the  medioBval  in  drapery  demand, 
pleads  prettily  to  be  thought  so,  and  commonly  succeeds  in 
its  object,  when  assisted  by  an  artistic  feminine  manner. 
Vittoria  heard  her  answer  to  the  name  of  Mrs.  Sedley.  She 
had  once  known  her  as  a  Miss  Adela  Pole.  Amidst  the 
cluster  of  assiduous  gentlemen  surrounding  this  lady  it  was 
difficult  for  Vittoria's  stolen  glances  to  discern  her  husband; 
and  the  moment  she  did  discern  him  she  became  as  in- 
diiferent  to  him  as  was  his  young  wife,  by  every  manifesta- 
tion of  her  sentiments.  Mrs.  Sedley  informed  her  lord  that 
it  was  not  expected  of  him  to  cai-e,  or  to  pretend  to  care,  for 
such  scenes  as  the  ]\Iottci'one  exhibited  ;  and  having-  dis- 
missed  him  to  the  shade  of  an  umbrella  near  the  provision 
baskets,  she  took  her  station  within  a  few  steps  of  Vittoi-ia, 
and  allowed  her  attendant  gentlemen  to  talk  while  she  re- 
mained plunged  in  a  meditative  raptui'c  at  the  prospect. 
The  talk  indicated  a  settled  scheme  for  certain  members  of 
the  party  to  reach  Milan  from  the  Como  road.  Mrs.  Sedley 
was  asked  if  she  expected  her  brother  to  join  her  here  or  in 
Milan. 

"  Here,  if  a  man's  promises  mean  anything,"  she  replied 
languidly. 

She  was  told  that  some  one  waved  a  handkerchief  to  them 
from  below. 

"  Is  he  alone  ?"  she  said ;  and  directing  an  opera-glass 
upon  the  slope  of  the  mountain,  pursued,  as  in  a  dreamy 
disregard  of  circumstances  : — "  That  is  Captain  Gambier. 
My  brother  Wilfrid  has  not  kept  his  appointment.  Perhaps 
he  could  not  get  leave  from  the  General;  perhaps  he  is 
married ;  he  is  engaged  to  an  Austrian  countess,  I  havo 
heard.  Captain  Gambier  did  me  the  favour  to  go  round  to 
a  place  called  Stresa  to  meet  him.  He  has  undei-taken  tho 
joume}-   ff)r  nf)thing.      It  is   the  way  with   all  journeys — 


42 


VITTORIA. 


though  this  "  (the  lady  had  softly  reverted  to  her  rapture) — 
"  this  is  too  exquisite  !     Nature  at  least  does  not  deceive." 

Vittoria  listened  to  a  bubbling  of  meaningless  chatter, 
until  Captain  Gambier  had  joined  Mrs.  Sedley ;  and  at  him, 
for  she  had  known  him  likewise,  she  could  not  forbear  look- 
ing up.  He  was  speaking  to  Mrs.  Sedley,  but  caught  the 
look,  and  bent  his  head  for  a  clearer  view  of  the  features 
under  the  broad  straw  hat.  Mrs.  Sedley  commanded  him 
imperiously  to  say  on. 

"  Have  you  no  letter  from  Wilfrid  ?  Has  the  mountain 
tired  you  ?  Has  Wilfrid  failed  tu  send  his  sister  one  word  ? 
Surely  Mr.  Pericles  will  have  made  known  our  exact  route 
to  him?  And  his  uncle.  General  Pierson,  could — I  am  cer- 
tain he  did — exert  his  influence  to  procure  him  leave  for  a 
single  week  to  meet  the  dearest  member  of  his  family." 

Captain  Gambier  gathered  his  wits  to  give  serviceable 
response  to  the  kindled  lady,  and  letting  his  eyes  fall  from 
time  to  time  on  the  broad  straw  hat,  made  answer — 

"  Lieutenant  Pierson,   or,   ia   other  words,  Wilfrid   Pole 


The  lady  stamped  her  foot  and  flushed. 

"  You  know,  Augustus,  I  detest  that  name." 

"  Pardon  me  a  thousandfold.     I  had  forgotten." 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?" 

Captain  Gambier  accused  the  heat. 

"  I  found  a  letter  from  Wilfrid  at  the  hotel.  He  is  ap- 
pai'cntly  kept  on  constant  service  between  Milan,  and  Verona, 
and  Venice.  His  quarters  are  at  Verona.  He  informs  me 
that  he  is  to  be  married  in  the  Spring ;  that  is,  if  all  con- 
tinues quiet ;  married  in  the  Spring.  He  seems  to  fancy  that 
there  may  be  disturbances ;  not  of  a  serious  kind,  of  course. 
He  will  meet  you  in  Milan.  He  has  never  been  permitted  to 
remain  at  Milan  longer  than  a  couple  of  days  at  a  stretch. 
Pei'icles  has  told  him  that  she  is  in  Florence.  Pericles  has 
told  me  that  Miss  Belloni  has  removed  to  Florence." 

"  Say  it  a  third  time,"  the  lady  indulgently  remarked. 

*'  I  do  not  believe  that  she  has  gone." 

*'  I  dare  say  not." 

"  She  has  changed  her  name,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes  ;  she  *lias  done  something  fantastic, 
naturally !  For  my  part,  I  should  have  thought  her  own 
good  enough." 


THE  WARNING.  43 

"  Emilia  Alcssandra  Bclloni  is  good  enough,  certainly," 
eaid  Captain  Gambier. 

The  shading  straw  rim  had  shaken  once  during  the  col- 
loquy.    It  was  now  a  fixed  defence. 

"  What  is  her  new  name  ?  "  Mrs.  Sedley  inquired. 

"  That  I  cannot  tell.  Wilfrid  merely  mentions  that  he  has 
not  seen  her." 

"  I,"  said  Mrs.  Sedley,  "  when  I  reach  Milan,  shall  not 
trust  to  Mr.  Pericles,  but  shall  write  to  the  Conservatorio ; 
for  if  she  is  going  to  be  a  great  cantatrice, — really,  it  will  be 
agreeable  to  renew  acquaintance  with  her.  Nor  will  it  do 
any  mischief  to  Wilfrid,  now  that  he  is  engaged.  Are  you 
very  deeply  attached  to  straw  hats  ?  They  are  sweet  in  a 
landscape." 

Mrs.  Sedley  threw  him  a  challenge  from  her  blue  eyes ; 
but  his  reply  to  it  was  that  of  an  unskilled  youth,  who  reads 
a  lady  by  the  letters  of  her  speech  : — "  One  minute.  I  will 
be  with  you  instantly.  I  want  to  have  a  look  down  on  the 
lake.  I  suppose  this  is  one  of  the  most  splendid  views  iu 
Italy.     Half  a  minute  !  " 

Captain  Gambier  smiled  brilliantly ;  and  the  lady,  per- 
ceiving that  polished  shield,  checked  the  shot  of  indignation 
on  her  astonished  featui^es,  and  laid  it  by.  But  the  astonish- 
ment lingered  there,  like  the  lines  of  a  slackened  bow.  She 
beheld  her  ideal  of  an  English  gentleman  place  himself  before 
these  recumbent  foreign  people,  and  turn  to  talk  across  them, 
with  a  pertinacious  pursuit  of  the  face  ander  the  bent  straw 
hat.  Nor  was  it  singular  to  her  that  one  of  them  at  last 
should  rise  and  protest  against  the  conoinuation  of  the  imper- 
tinence. 

Carlo  Ammiani,  in  fact,  had  opened  matters  with  a  scru- 
pulously-courteous bow. 

"  Monsieur  is  perhaps  unaware  that  he  obscures  the 
outlook  F  " 

"  Totally,  monsieur,"  said  Captain  Gambier,  and  stood 
fast. 

"  Will  monsieur  do  me  the  favour  to  take  three  steps  either 
to  tbe  right  or  to  the  lett  F  " 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  but  the  request  is  put  almost  in  the 
form  of  an  order." 

''  Simply  if  it  should  prove  inefficacious  in  the  form  of  a 
request." 


44  VITTORIA. 

"  What,  may  I  ask,  monsieur,  is  your  immediate  object  ?  " 

•'  To  entreat  you  to  behave  with  civility." 

*'  I  am  at  a  loss,  monsieur,  to  perceive  any  offence." 

"  Permit  me  to  say,  it  is  lamentable  you  do  not  know  vphen 
you  insult  a  lady." 

"  I  have  insulted  a  lady  ?  "  Captain  Grambier  looked  pro- 
foundly incredulous.  "  Oh  !  then  you  will  not  take  exception 
to  my  assuming  the  privilege  to  apologize  to  her  in  person  ?" 

Ammiani  arrested  him  as  he  was  about  to  pass. 

"  Stay,  monsieur ;  you  determine  to  be  impudent,  I  per- 
ceive  ;  you  shall  not  be  obtrusive." 

Vittoria  had  tremblingly  taken  old  Agostino's  hand,  and 
had  risen  to  her  feet.  Still  keeping  her  face  hidden,  she 
walked  down  the  slope,  followed  at  an  interval  by  her  ser- 
vant, and  curiously  watched  by  the  English  officer,  who  said 
to  himself,  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  was  mistaken,"  and  conse- 
quently discovered  that  he  was  in  a  hobble. 

A  short  duologue  in  their  best  stilted  Frencb  ensued 
between  him  and  Ammiani.  It  was  pitched  too  high  in  a 
foreign  tongue  for  Captain  Gambier  to  descend  from  it,  as 
he  would  fain  have  done,  to  ask  the  lady's  name.  They 
exchanged  cards  and  formal  salutes,  and  parted. 

The  dignified  altercation  had  been  witnessed  by  the  main 
body  of  the  tourists.  Captain  Gambier  told  them  that  he 
had  merely  interchanged  amicable  commonplaces  with  the 
Frenchman, — "  or  Italian,"  he  added  carelessly,  reading  the 
card  in  his  hand.  "  I  thought  she  might  be  somebody  whom 
we  knew,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Sedley. 

"  l!^ot  the  shadow  of  a  likeness  to  her,"  the  lady  returned. 

She  had  another  opinion  when  later  a  scrap  of  paper 
bearing  one  pencilled  line  on  it  was  handed  round.  A  damsel 
of  the  party  had  picked  it  up  near  the  spot  where,  as  she 
remarked,  "  the  foreigjiers  had  been  sitting."     It  said : — 

*'£ef  none  who  look  for  safety  go  to  Milan." 


BAKTO  RIZZO-  45 

CHAPTER  VII. 

BABTO  RIZZO. 

A  WEEK  following  the  day  of  meetings  on  the  Motterone, 
Luigi  the  spy  was  in  Mihxn,  making  his  way  across  the  Piazza 
de'  Mercanti.  He  entered  a  narrow  court,  one  of  those  which 
were  anciently  built  upon  the  Oriental  principle  of  giving 
shade  at  the  small  cost  of  excluding  common  air.  It  was 
dusky  noon  there  through  the  hours  of  light,  and  thrice 
night  when  dai-kness  fell.  The  atmosphere,  during  the  sun's 
short  passage  overhead,  hung  with  a  glittering  heaviness, 
like  the  twinkling  iron-dust  in  a  subterranean  smithy.  On 
the  lower  window  of  one  of  the  houses  there  was  a  board, 
telling  men  that  Barto  Rizzo  made  and  mended  shoes,  and 
requesting  people  who  wished  to  see  him  to  make  much  noise 
at  the  door,  for  he  was  hard  of  hearing.  It  speedily  became 
known  in  the  court  that  a  visitor  desired  to  see  Barto  Rizzo. 
The  noise  produced  by  Luigi  was  like  that  of  a  fanatical 
beater  of  the  tom-tom ;  he  knocked  and  banged  and  danced 
against  the  door,  crying  out  for  his  passing  amusement  an 
adaptation  of  a  popular  ballad : — 

"  Oh,  Barto,  Barto  !  my  boot  is  sadly  worn :  The  toe  is 
seen  that  should  be  veiled  from  sight.  The  toe  that 
should  be  veiled  like  an  Eastern  maid :  Like  a  sultan's 
daughter :  Shocking  !  shocking  !  One  of  a  company  of  ten 
that  were  living  a  secluded  life  in  chaste  privacy  !  Oh, 
Barto,  Barto !  must  I  charge  it  to  thy  despicable  leather  or 
to  my  incessant  pilgrimages  ?  One  fair  toe !  I  fear  pre- 
sently the  corruption  of  the  remaining  nine :  Then,  alas ! 
what  do  I  go  on  ?  How  shall  I  come  to  a  perfumed  end, 
who  walk  on  ten  indecent  toes  ?  Well  may  the  delicate  gentle- 
men sneer  at  me  and  scorn  me :  As  for  the  angelic  Lady  who 
deigns  to  look  so  low,  I  may  say  of  her  that  her  graciousness 
clothes  what  she  looks  at:  To  her  the  foot,  the  leg,  the  back: 
To  her  the  very  soul  is  bared  :  But  she  is  a  rarity  upon  earth. 
Oh,  Barto,  Bax"to,  she  is  rarest  in  Milan  !  I  might  run  a  day's 
length  and  not  find  her.  If,  0  Barto,  as  my  boot  hints  to 
me,  I  am  about  to  be  sti-ipjjpd  of  my  last  covering,  I  must 
hurry  to  the  inconvenient  little  chamber  of  my  mother,  who 
cannot  refuse  to  acknowledge  me  as  of  this  pattern :  Barto 


46  VITTORIA. 

O  shoemaker!  thou  son  of  artifice  and  right-hand-man  of 
necessity,  preserve  me  in  the  fashion  of  the  time :  Cobble 
me  neatly :  A  dozen  wax  threads  and  I  am  remade  : — Excel- 
lent !  I  thank  you!  JSTow  I  can  plant  my  foot  bravely  :  Oh, 
Barto,  my  shoemaker !  between  ourselves,  it  is  unpleasant. 
in  these  refined  days  to  be  likened  at  all  to  that  preposterous 
Adam!" 

The  omission  of  the  apostrophes  to  Barto  left  it  one  of  the 
ironical,  veiled  Republican,  semi-socialistic  ballads  of  the 
time,  which  were  sung  about  the  streets  for  the  sharpness 
and  pith  of  the  couplets,  and  not  from  a  perception  of  the 
double  edofe  down  the  lengfth  of  them. 

As  Luigi  was  coming  to  the  terminating  line,  the  door 
opened.  A  very  handsome  sullen  young  woman,  of  the  dark, 
thick-browed  Lombard  type,  asked  what  was  wanted ;  at 
the  same  time  the  deep  voice  of  a  man,  conjecturally  rising 
from  a  lower  floor,  called,  and  a  lock  was  rattled.  The 
woman  told  Luigi  to  enter.  He  sent  a  glance  behind  him ; 
he  had  evidently  been  drained  of  his  sprightliness  in  a 
second;  he  moved  in  with  the  slackness  of  limb  of  a  gibbeted 
figure.  The  door  shut ;  the  woman  led  him  downstairs.  He 
could  not  have  danced  or  sung  a  song  now  for  great  pay. 
The  smell  of  mouldiness  became  so  depressing  to  him  that 
the  smell  of  leather  struck  his  nostrils  refresliingly.  He 
thought :  "  Oh,  Virgin !  it's  dark  enough  to  make  one  believe 
in  every  single  thing  they  tell  us  about  the  saints."  Up  in 
the  light  of  day  Luigi  had  a  turn  for  careless  thinking  on 
these  holy  subjects. 

Barto  Rizzo  stood  before  him  in  a  square  of  cellarage 
that  was  furnished  with  implements  of  his  craft,  too  dark 
for  a  clear  discernment  of  features. 

"  So,  here  you  are  !"  was  the  greeting'Luigi  received. 

It  was  a  tremendous  voice,  that  seemed  to  issue  from  a  • 
vast  cavity.  "Lead  the  gentleman  to  my  sitting-room," 'said 
Barto.  Luigi  felt  the  wind  of  a  handkerchief,  and  guessed 
that  his  eyes  were  about  to  be  bandaged  by  the  woman  behind 
hira.  He  petitioned  to  be  spared  it,  on  the  plea,  firstly,  that 
it  expressed  want  of  confidence ;  secondly,  that  it  took  him 
in  the  stomach.  The  handkerchief  was  tight  across  his  eyes 
while  he  was  speaking.  His  hand  was  to^^clled  by  the  woman, 
and  he  commenced  timidly  an  ascent  of  stairs.  It  continued 
so  that  he  would  have  sworn  he  was  a  shorter  time  going  up 


BARTO  RIZZO.  47 

the  Motterone;  then  down,  and  along  a  passage;  lower  down, 
deep  into  corpse-climate;  up  again,  up  another  enormous 
mountain ;  and  once  more  down,  as  among  rats  and  beetles, 
and  down,  as  among  faceless  horrors,  and  down,  where  all 
things  seemed  prostrate  and  with  a  taste  of  brass.  It  was 
the  poor  fellow's  nervous  imagination,  preteruatui-ally  excited. 
When  the  handkerchief  was  caught  away,  his  jaw  was  shud- 
dering, his  eyes  were  sickly ;  he  looked  as  if  impaled  on  the 
prongs  of  fright.  It  required  just  half  a  minute  to  reanimate 
this  mercurial  creature,  when  he  found  himself  under  the 
light  of  two  lamps,  and  Barto  Rizzo  fronting  him,  in  a. place 
so  like  the  square  of  cellarage  which  he  had  been  led  to  with 
unbandaged  eyes,  that  it  relieved  his  di'ead  by  touching  his 
humour.  He  cried,  "  Have  I  made  the  journey  of  the  signer 
Capofinale,  who  visited  the  other  end  of  the  world  by  stand- 
ing on  his  head  ?" 

Barto  Rizzo  rolled  out  a  burly  laugh. 

"  Sit,"  he  said.  "  You're  a  poor  sweating  body,  and  must 
needs  have  a  dry  tongue.     Will  you  di'iuk  ?" 

"Dry  !"  quoth  Luigi.  "Holy  San  Carlo  is  a  mash  in  a 
wine-press  compared  with  me." 

Barto  Rizzo  handed  him  a  liquor,  which  he  drank,  and 
after  gave  thanks  to  Providence.     Barto  raised  his  hand. 

"We're  too  low  down  here  for  that  Idnd  of  machinery," 
he  said.  "  They  say  that  Providence  is  on  the  side  of  the 
Austrians.  Now  then,  what  have  you  to  communicate  to 
me  ?  This  time  I  let  you  come  to  my  house :  trust  at  all, 
trust  entir(3ly.  I  think  that's  the  proverb.  You  are 
admitted:  speak  like  a  guest." 

Luigi's  preference  happened  to  be  for  categorical  interro- 
gations. I^ever  having  an  idea  of  spontaneously  telling  the 
whole  truth,  the  sense  that  he  was  undertaking  a  narrative 
gave  him  such  emotions  as  a  bad  swimmer  upon  deep  seas 
may  have ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  his  being  subjected  to 
a  series  of  questions  seemed  at  least  to  leave  him  Avith  one 
leg  on  shore,  for  then  he  could  lie  disci-eetly,  and  according 
to  the  finger-posts,  and  only  when  necessary,  and  he  could 
recover  himself  if  he  made  a  false  step.  His  ingenious  mind 
reasoned  these  images  out  to  his  own  satisfaction.  He 
requested,  therefore,  that  his  host  would  let  him  hear  what 
he  desired  to  know. 

Barto  Rizzo's  forefinger  was  pressed  from  an  angle  into 


48  VITTOEIA. 

one  templo.  His  head  inclined  to  meet  it :  so  that  it  was 
like  the  support  to  a  broad  blunt  pillar.  The  cropped  head 
was  flat  as  an  owl's ;  the  chest  of  immense  breadth ;  the 
bulgy  knees  and  big  hands  were  those  of  a  dwarf- athlete. 
Strong  colour,  lying  full  on  him  from  the  neck  to  the  fore- 
head, made  the  big  veins  purple  and  the  eyes  fierier  than 
the  movements  of  his  mind  would  have  indicated.  He  was 
simply  studying  the  character  of  his  man.  Luigi  feared 
him ;  he  was  troubled  chiefly  because  he  was  unaware  of 
what  Barto  Rizzo  wanted  to  know,  and  could  not  conse- 
quently tell  what  to  bring  to  the  market.  The  simplicity 
of  the  questions  put  to  him  were  bewildering :  he  fell  into 
the  trap.  Barto's  eyes  began  to  get  terribly  oblique. 
Jingling  money  in  his  pocket,  he  said — 

"  You  saw  Colonel  Corte  on  the  Motterone :  you  saw  the 
Signer  Agostino  Balderini :  good  men,  both  !  Also  young 
Count  Ammiani :  I  served  his  father,  the  General,  and 
jogged  the  lad  on  my  knee.  You  saw  the  Signorina  Yittoria. 
The  English  people  came,  and  you  heard  them  talk,  but  did 
not  understand.  You  came  home  and  told  all  this  to  the 
Signer  Antonio,  your  employer  number  one.  You  have  told 
the  same  to  me,  your  employer  number  two.     There's  your 

pay-" 

Barto  summed  up  thus  the  information  he  had  received, 
and  handed  Luigi  six  gold  pieces.  The  latter,  springing 
vnth  boyish  thankfulness  and  pride  at  the  easy  earning  of 
them,  threw  in  a  few  additional  facts,  as,  that  he  had  been 
taken  for  a  spy  by  the  conspirators,  and  had  heard  one  o£ 
the  Englishmen  mention  the  Signorina  Vittoria's  English 
name.  Barto  Rizzo  lifted  his  eyebrows  qiieerly.  "  We'll  go 
through  another  interrogatory  in  an  houi%"  he  said ;  "  stop 
here  till  I  return." 

Luigi  was  always  too  full  of  his  own  cunning  to  suspect 
the  same  in  anoi^ier,  until  he  was  left  alone  to  reflect  on  a 
scene ;  when  it  became  overwhelmingly  transparent.  "  But, 
what  could  I  say  more  than  I  did  say  ?"  he  asked  himself, 
as  he  stared  at  the  one  lamp  Barto  had  left.  Finding  the 
door  unfastened,  he  took  the  lamp  and  lighted  himself  out, 
and  along  a  cavernous  passage  ending  in  a  blank  wall, 
against  which  his  heart  knocked  and  fell,  for  his  sensation 
was  immediately  the  teiTor  of  imprisonment  and  helpless- 
ness.    Mad  with  alarm,  he  tried  every  spot  for  an  aperture. 


BARTO  RIZZO.  49 

Then  he  sat  down  on  his  haunches ;  he  remembered  hearing 
word  of  Barto  Rizzo's  rack : — certain  methods  peculiar  to 
Barto  Rizzo,  by  which  he  screwed  matters  out  of  his  agents, 
and  terrified  them  into  fidehty.  His  personal  dealings  with 
Barto  were  of  recent  date ;  but  Luigi  knew  him  by  repute : 
he  knew  that  the  shoemaking  business  was  a  mask.  Barto 
had  been  a  soldier,  a  schoolmaster :  twice  an  exile ;  a  con- 
spirator since  the  day  when  the  Austrians  had  the  two  fine 
Apples  of  Pomona,  Lombardy  and  Venice,  given  them  as 
fruits  of  peace.  Luigi  remembered  how  he  had  snapped  his 
fingers  at  the  name  of  Barto  Rizzo.  There  was  no  despising 
him  now.  He  could  only  arrive  at  a  peaceful  contemplation 
of  Barto  Rizzo's  character  by  determining  to  tell  all,  and 
(since  that  seemed  little)  more  than  he  knew.  He  got  back 
to  the  leather-smelling  chamber,  which  was  either  the  same 
or  purposely  rendered  exactly  similar  to  the  one  he  had  first 
been  led  to. 

At  the  end  of  a  leaden  hour  Barto  Rizzo  returned. 

"  Now,  to  recommence,"  he  said.  "  Drink  before  you 
speak,  if  your  tongue  is  dry." 

Luigi  thrust  aside  the  mention  of  liquor.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  by  doing  so  he  propitiated  that  ill-conceived 
divinity  called  Virtue,  who  lived  in  the  open  air,  and  desired 
men  to  drink  water.  Barto  Rizzo  evidently  understood  thp 
kind  of  man  he  was  schooling  to  his  service, 

"  Did  that  Austrian  ofiicer,  who  is  an  Englishman 
acquainted  with  the  signer  Antonio-Pei'icles,  meet  the  lady, 
his  sister,  on  the  Motterone  ?" 

Luigi  answered  promptly,  "  Yes." 

"  Did  the  signorina  Vittoria  speak  to  the  lady  ?" 

"No." 

"  Not  a  word  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Not  one  communication  to  her  ?" 

*'  No  :  she  sat  under  her  straw  hat.'* 

*'  She  concealed  her  face  ?" 

**  She  sat  like  a  naughty  angry  girl." 

"  Did  she  speak  to  the  ofiicer  ?" 

"Not  she!" 

"Did  she  sec  him  ?" 

"  Of  course  she  did !  As  if  a  woman's  eyes  couldn't  see 
through  straw-plait  1" 

I 


50  VITTOEIA. 

Barto  paused,  calcnlatingly,  eye  on  victim. 

"  The  signorina  Vittoria,"  he  resumed,  "  has  engaged  to 
Bing  on  the  night  of  the  Fifteenth  ;  has  she  ?" 

A  twitching  of  Lnigi's  muscles  showed  that  he  appre- 
hended a  necessary  straining  of  his  invention  on  another 
tack. 

"  On  the  night  of  the  Fifteenth,  signor  Barto  Rizzo  r 
That's  the  night  of  her  first  appearance.     Oh,  yes!" 

"  To  sing  a  particular  song  ?" 

"  Lots  of  them  !  ay-aie  !" 

Barto  took  him  hy  the  shoulder  and  pressed  him  into  his 
Beat  till  he  howled,  saying,  "  Now,  there's  a  slate  and  a 
pencil.  Expect  me  at  the  end  of  two  hours,  this  time.  Next 
time  it  will  be  four:  then  eight,  then  sixteen.  Find  out 
how  many  hours  that  will  be  at  the  sixteenth  examination." 

Luigi  flew  at  the  torturer  and  stuck  at  the  length  of  his 
straightened  arm,  where  he  wriggled,  refusing  to  listen  tc 
the  explanation  of  Barto's  system  :  which  was  that,  in  cases 
where  every  fresh  examination  taught  him  more,  they  were 
contiuued,  after  regularly-lengthening  intervals,  that  might 
extend  from  the  sowing  of  seed  to  the  ripening  of  grain. 
"  When  all's  delivered,"  said  Barto,  "  then  we  begin  to  cor- 
rect  discrepancies.  I  expect,"  he  added,  "  you*  and  I  will 
have  done  before  a  week's  out." 

"  A  week !"  Luigi  shouted.  "  Here's  my  stomach  already 
leaping  like  a  fish  at  the  smell  of  this  hole.  You  brute  bear ! 
it's  a  smell  of  bones.  It  turns  my  inside  with  a  spoon.  May 
the  devil  seize  you  when  you're  sleeping  !  You  shan't  go : 
I'll  tell  you  everything — everything.  I  can't  tell  you  any- 
thing more  than  I  have  told  you.  She  gave  me  a  cigarette — 
there  !  Now  you  know : — gave  me  a  cigarette  ;  a  cigarette. 
I  smoked  it — there  !     Your  faithful  servant !" 

"  She  gave  you  a  cigarette,  and  you  smoked  it ;  ha !"  said 
Barto  Hizzo,  who  appeared  to  see  something  to  weigh  even 
in  that  small  fact.  "  The  English  lady  gave  you  the 
cigarette  ?" 

Luigi  nodded  :  "  Yes ;"  pertinacious  in  deception.  "  Yes," 
he  repeated  ;  "  the  English  lady.  That  was  the  person. 
What's  the  use  of  your  skewering  me  with  your  eyes  !" 

"  I  perceive  that  you  have  never  travelled,  my  Luigi," 
said  Barto.  "  I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  part  so  early  as  I 
had  supposed.  I  double  the  dose,  and  return  to  you  in  four 
Loui's'  time." 


BARTO  RIZZO.  51 

Luigi  tlirew  himself  flat  on  the  ground,  shrieking  that  he 
was  ready  to  tell  everything — anything.  Not  even  the  ap- 
parent desperation  of  his  circumstances  could  teach  him  that 
a  promise  to  tell  the  truth  was  a  more  direct  way  of  speak- 
ing. Indeed,  the  hitting  of  the  truth  would  have  seemed  to 
him  a  sort  of  artful  archery,  the  burden  of  which  should 
devolve  upon  the  questioner,  whom  he  supplied  with  the 
relation  of  '  everything  and  anything.' 

All  through  a  night  Luigi's  lesson  continued.  In  the 
morning  he  was  still  breaking  out  in  small  and  purposeless 
lies ;  but  Barto  Rizzo  had  accomplished  his  two  objects : 
that  of  squeezing  him,  and  that  of  subjecting  his,  imagina- 
tion. Luigi  confessed  (owing  to  a  singular  recovery  of  his 
memory)  the  gift  of  the  cigarette  as  coming  from  the 
signorina  Vittoria.  What  did  it  matter  if  she  did  give  him 
a  cigarette  ? 

"  You  adore  her  for  it  ?"  said  Barto. 

*'  May  the  Virgin  sweep  the  floor  of  heaven  into  her  lap !" 
interjected  Luigi.     "  She  is  a  good  patriot." 

"  Are  you  one  ?"  Barto  asked. 

"  Certainly  1  am." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  suspect  you,  for  the  good  of  your 
country." 

Luigi  could  not  see  the  deduction.  He  was  incapable  of 
guessing  that  it  might  apply  forcibly  to  Vittoria,  who  had 
undertaken  a  grave,  perilous,  and  imminent  work.  Nothing 
but  the  spontaneous  desire  to  elude  the  pursuit  of  a  ques- 
tioner had  at  fii'st  instigated  his  bafiling  of  Barto  Rizzo, 
until,  fearing  the  dark  square  man  himself,  he  feared  him 
dimly  for  Vittoria's  sake  ;  he  could  not  have  said  why.  She 
was  a  good  patriot :  wherefore  the  reason  for  wishing  to 
know  more  of  her  ?  Barto  Rizzo  had  compelled  him  at  last 
to  furnish  a  narrative  of  the  events  of  that  day  on  the 
Mottei'one,  and,  finding  himself  at  sea,  Luigi  struck  out 
boldly  and  swam  as  well  as  he  could.  Barto  disentangled 
one  succinct  thread  of  incidents  :  Vittoria  had  been  commis- 
sioned by  the  Chief  to  sing  on  the  night  of  the  Fifteenth ; 
she  had  subsequently,  without  speaking  to  any  of  the  Eng- 
lish party,  or  revealing  her  features — "  keeping  them  beau- 
tifully hidden,"  Luigi  said,  with  unaccountable  enthusiasm — 
written  a  warning  to  them  that  they  were  to  avoid  Milan. 
The  paper  on  which  the  warning  had  been  written  was  found 

£2 


62  VITTOEIA. 

by  the  English  when  he  was  the  only  Italian  on  the  height, 
lying  there  to  observe  and  note  things  in  the  service  of 
Barto  Rizzo.  The  writing  was  English,  but  when  one  of  the 
English  ladies — "  who  wore  her  hair  like  a  planed  shred  of 
wood ;  like  a  torn  vine ;  like  a  kite  with  two  tails  ;  like  Luxury 
at  the  Banquet,  ready  to  tumble  over  marble  shoulders"  (an 
illustration  drawn  probably  from  Luigi's  study  of  some  alle- 
gorical picture, — he  was  at  a  loss  to  desci"ibe  the  foreign 
female  head-dress) — when  this  lady  had  read  the  writing, 
she  exclaimed  that  it  was  the  hand  of  "her  Emilia!"  and 
soon  after  she  addressed  Luigi  in  English,  then  in  French, 
then  in  "  barricade  Italian  "  (by  which  phrase  Luigi  meant 
that  the  Italian  words  were  there,  but  did  not  present  their 
proper  smooth  footing  for  his  understanding),  and  strove  to 
obtain  information  from  him  concerning  the  signorina,  and 
also  concerning  the  chances  that  Milan  would  be  an  agitated 
city.  Luigi  assured  her  that  Milan  was  the  peacefullest  of 
cities — a  pure  babe.  He  admitted  his  acquaintance  with  the 
signorina  Vittoria  Campa,  and  denied  her  being  "  any  longer  " 
the  Emilia  Alessandra  Belloni  of  the  English  lady.  The 
latter  had  partly  retained  him  in  her  service,  having  given 
him  dii'ections  to  call  at  her  hotel  in  Milan,  and  help  her  to 
communicate  with  her  old  friend.  "  I  present  myself  to  her 
to-morrow,  Friday,"  said  Luigi. 

"  That's  to-day,"  said  Barto. 

Luigi  clapped  his  hand  to  his  cheek,  crying  wofully, 
"  You've  drawn,  beastly  gaoler  !  a  night  out  of  my  life  like 
an  old  jaw-tooth." 

"  There's  day  two  or  three  fathoms  above  us,"  said  Barto ; 
"  and  hot  coifee  is  coming  down." 

"  I  believe  I've  been  stewing  in  a  pot  while  the  moon 
looked  so  cool."  Luigi  groaned,  and  touched  up  along  the 
sleeves  of  his  arms :  that  which  he  fancied  he  instantaneously 
felt. 

The  coifee  was  broiight  by  the  heavy-browed  young  woman. 
Before  she  quitted  the  place  Barto  desired  her  to  cast  her 
eyes  on  Luigi,  and  say  whether  she  thought  she  should  know 
him  again.  She  scarcely  glanced,  and  gave  answer  with  a 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  as  she  retired.  Luigi  at  the  time 
was  drinking.  He  rose  ;  he  was  about  to  speak,  but  yawned 
instead.  The  woman's  carelessly-dropped  upper  eyelids 
seemed  to  him  to  be  reading  him  through  a  dozen  of  hia 


BARTO  RT7Z0.  63 

contortions  and  disguises,  and  checked  the  idea  of  liberty 
%\-hich  he  associated  ^\T.th  getting  to  the  daylight, 

"  But  it  is  worth  the  money  !"  shouted  IBai-to  Rizzo,  Tvdth 
a  splendid  divination  of  his  thought.  "  You  skulker !  are 
you  not  paid  and  fattened  to  do  business  which  you've  only 
to  remember,  and  it'll  honey  your  legs  in  purgatory  ?  You're 
the  shooting-dog  of  that  Greek,  and  you  nose  about  the 
bushes  for  his  birds,  and  who  cares  if  any  fellow,  just  for 
exercise,  shoots  a  dagger  a  yard  from  his  wrist  and  sticks 
you  in  the  back  ?  You  serve  me,  and  there's  pay  for  you ; 
iDrothers,  doctors,  nurses,  friends, — a  tight  blanket  if  you 
fall  from  a  housetop !  and  masses  for  your  soul  when 
your  hour  strikes.  The  treacherous  cur  lies  rotting  in  a 
ditch !  Do  you  conceive  that  when  I  employ  you  I  am  in 
your  power  ?  Your  intelligence  will  open  gradually.  Do 
you  know  that  here  in  this  house  I  can  conceal  fifty  men, 
and  leave  the  door  open  to  the  Croats  to  find  them  ?  I 
tell  you  now — you  are  free  ;  go  forth.  You  go  alone  ;  no 
one  touches  you ;  ten  years  hence  a  skeleton  is  found  with 
an  English  letter  on  its  ribs " 

"  0,  stop  !  signor  Barto,  and  be  a  blessed  man,"  interposed 
Luigi,  doubling  and  wriggling  in  a  posture  that  appeared 
as  if  he  were  shaking  negatives  from  the  elbows  of:  his 
crossed  arms.  "  Stop.  How  did  you  know  of  a  letter  ?  I 
forgot — I  have  seen  the  English  lady  at  her  hotel.  I  was 
carrying  the  signorina's  answer,  when  I  thought  'Barto 
Rizzo  calls  me,'  and  I  came  like  a  lamb.  And  what  does  it 
matter  ?  She  is  a  good  patriot ;  you  are  a  good  patriot ; 
here  it  is.  Consider  my  reputation,  do ;  and  be  careful  with 
the  wax." 

Barto  drew  a  long  breath.  The  mention  of  the  English 
letter  had  Ixen  a  shot  in  the  dark.  The  result  corroborated 
his  devotional  belief  in  the  uncrringness  of  his  own  powerful 
intuition.  He  had  guessed  the  case,  or  hardly  even  guessed 
it — merely  stated  it,  to  horrify  Luigi.  The  letter  was  placed 
in  his  hands,  and  he  sat  as  strongly  thrilled  by  emotion, 
under  the  mask  of  his  hard  face,  as  a  lover  hearing  music. 
"  I  read  English,"  he  remarked. 

After  he  had  drawn  the  seal  three  or  four  times  slowly? 
over  the  lamp,  the  green  wax  bubbled  and  unsnappcd. 
Vittoria  had  written  the  following  lines  in  reply  to  her  old 
Enjrlish  friend  : — 


64  VITTORIA. 

"  Forgive  me,  and  do  not  ask  to  see  me  nntil  we  have 
passed  the  fifteenth  of  the  month.  You  will  see  me  that 
night  at  La  Scala.  I  wish  to  emhrace  you,  but  I  am 
miserable  to  think  of  your  being  in  Milan.  I  cannot  yet 
tell  you  where  my  residence  is.  I  have  not  met  your  brother. 
If  he  writes  to  me  it  will  make  me  happy,  but  I  refuse  to 
see  him.  I  will  explain  to  him  why.  Let  him  not  try  to 
see  me.  Let  him  send  by  this  messenger.  I  hope  he  will 
contrive  to  be  out  of  Milan  all  this  month.  Pray  let  mo 
influence  you  to  go  for  a  time.  I  write  coldly ;  I  am  tired, 
and  forget  my  English.  I  do  not  forget  my  friends.  I  have 
you  close  against  my  heart.  If  it  were  prudent,  and  it 
involved  me  alone,  I  would  come  to  you  without  a  moment's 
loss  of  time.  Do  know  that  I  am  not  changed,  and  am  your 
affectionate 

"  Emilia." 

When  Barto  Rizzo  had  finished  reading,  he  went  from  the 
chamber  and  blew  his  voice  into  what  Luigi  supposed  to  be 
a  hollow  tube. 

"  This  letter,"  he  said,  coming  back,  "  is  a  repetition  of  the 
signorina  Vittoria's  warning  to  her  friends  on  the  Mottei'one. 
The  English  lady's  brother,  who  is  in  the  Austrian  service, 
was  there,  you  say  ?" 

Luigi  considered  that,  having  lately  been  believed  in,  he 
could  not  afford  to  look  untruthful,  and  replied  with  a 
sprightly  "  Assuredly." 

"  He  was  there,  and  he  read  the  writing  on  the  paper  ?" 

"Assuredly:  right  out  loud,  between  puff-puff  of  his 
cigar." 

"  His  name  is  Lieutenant  Pierson.  Did  not  Antonio- 
Pericles  tell  you  his  name  ?  He  will  wi'ite  to  her  :  you  will 
be  the  bearer  of  his  letter  to  the  signorina.  I  must  see  her 
reply.  She  is  a  good  patriot ;  so  am  I ;  so  are  you.  Good 
patriots  must  be  prudent.  I  tell  you,  I  must  see  her  reply 
to  this  Lieutenant  Pierson."  Barto  stuck  his  thumb  and 
finger  astride  Luigi's  shoulder  and  began  rocking  him  gently, 
with  a  horrible  meditative  expression,  "  You  will  have  to 
accomplish  this,  my  Luigi.  All  fair  excuses  will  be  made, 
if  you  fail  generally.  This  you  must  do.  Keep  upright 
while  I  am  speaking  to  you  !  The  excuses  will  be  made ; 
but  I,  not  you,  must  make  them :  bear  that  in  mind.     Is 


BARTO  RIZZO.  55 

there  any  person  whom  jou,  my  Luigi,  like  best  in  the 
world  ?" 

It  was  a  winning'  question,  and  though  Luigi  was  not  the 
dupe  of  its  insinuating  gentleness,  he  answered,  "  The  little 
girl  who  carries  flowers  every  morning  to  the  caffe  La 
Scala." 

"  Ah  !  the  little  girl  who  carries  flowers  every  morning  to 
the  caffe  La  Scala.  I*Tow,  my  Luigi,  you  may  fail  me,  and  I 
may  pardon  you.  Listen  attentively :  if  you  are  false  ;  if 
you  are  guilty  of  one  piece  of  treachery  : — do  you  see  ?  You 
can't  help  slipping,  but  you  can  help  jumping.  Restrain 
yourself  from  jumping,  that's  all.  If  you  are  guilty  of 
treachery,  hurry  at  once,  straight  off,  to  the  little  girl  who 
carries  flowers  every  morning  to  the  caffe  La  Scala.  Go  to 
her,  take  her  by  the  two  cheeks,  kiss  her,  say  to  her  *  addio, 
addio,'  for,  by  the  thunder  of  heaven !  you  will  never  see 
her  more." 

Luigi  was  rocked  forward  and  back,  while  Barto  spoke  in 
level  tones,  till  the  voice  dropped  into  its  vast  hollow,  when 
Barto  held  him  fast  a  moment,  and  hurled  him  away  by  the 
simple  lifting  of  his  hand. 

The  woman  appeared  and  bound  Luigi's  eyes.  Barto  did 
not  utter  another  word.  On  his  journey  back  to  daylight, 
Luigi  comforted  himself  by  muttering  oaths  that  he  would 
never  again  enter  into  this  trap.  As  soon  as  his  eyes  were 
unbandaged,  he  laughed,  and  sang,  and  tossed  a  compliment 
from  his  finger-tips  to  the  savage-browed  beauty  ;  pretended 
that  he  had  got  an  armful,  and  that  his  heart  was  touched 
by  the  ecstasy ;  and  sang  again :  "  Oh,  Barto,  Barto !  my 
boot  is  sadly  worn.  The  toe  is  seen,"  &c.,  half-way  down 
the  stanzas.  Without  his  knowing  it,  and  before  he  had 
quitted  the  court,  he  had  sunk  into  songless  gloom,  brooding 
on  the  scenes  of  the  night.  However  free  he  might  be  in 
body,  his  imagination  was  captive  to  Barto  Rizzo.  He  was 
no  luckier  than  a  bird,  for  whom  the  cage  is  open  that  it 
may  feci  the  more  keenly  with  its  little  taste  of  liberty  that 
it  is  tied  by  the  leg. 


^^  VITTOEIA. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

THE  LETTER. 


The  importance  of  the  matters  extracted  from  Lni^  does 
not  lie  on  the  surface  :  it  will  have  to  be  seen  tliroucrh  Barto 
-Rizzo  s  nimd.  This  man  regarded  himself  as  the  mainspring 
of  the  conspiracy  ;  specially  its  guardian  ;  its  wakeful  Argus. 
He  had  conspired  sleeplessly  for  thirty  years ;  so  long  that, 
having  no  ideal  reserve  in  his  nature,  conspiracy  had  become 
his  professional  occupation, — the  wheel  which  it  was  hia 
business  to  roll.  He  was  above  jealousy ;  he  was  above 
vanity.  No  one  outstripping  him  cast  a  bad  colour  on 
him ;  nor  did  he  object  to  bow  to  another  as  his  superior. 
But  he  was  prepared  to  suspect  every  one  of  insincerity 
and  of  faithlessness ;  and,  being  the  master  of  the 
machinery  of  the  plots,  he  was  ready,  upon  a  whispered 
justification,  to  despise  the  orders  of  his  leader,  and 
act  by  his  own  light  in  blunt  disobedience.  For  it  was 
his  belief  that  while  others  speculated  he  knew  all.  He 
knew  where  the  plots  had  failed ;  he  knew  the  man  who 
had  bent  and  doubled.  In  the  patriotic  cause,  perfect 
arrangements  are  crowned  with  perfect  success,  unless  there 
is  an  imperfection  of  the  instruments ;  for  the  cause  is 
blessed  by  all  superior  agencies.  Such  was  his  governing 
idea.  His  arrangements  had  always  been  perfect ;  hence  the 
deduction  was  a  denunciation  of  some  one  particular  person. 
He  pointed  out  the  traitor  here,  the  traitor  there  ;  and  in 
one  or  two  cases  he  did  so  with  a  mildness  that  made  those 
r(  t  at  their  beards  vaguely  who  understood  his  chai-^acter. 
Barto  Rizzo  was,  it  was  said,  born  in  a  village  near  Forli,  in 
the  dominions  of  the  Pope  ;  according  to  the  rumour,  he  was 
the  child  of  a  veiled  woman  and  a  cowled  paternity.  If  not 
an  offender  against  Government,  he  was  at  least  a  wanderer 
early  in  life.  None  could  accuse  him  of  personal  ambition. 
He  boasted  that  he  had  served  as  a  common  soldier  with  the 
Italian  contingent  furnished  by  Eugene  to  the  Moscow  cam- 
paign ;  he  showed  scars  of  old  wounds :  brown  spots,  and 
blue  spots,  and  twisted  twine  of  white  skin,  dotting  the 
wrist,  the  neck,  the  calf,  the  ankle,  and  looking  up  from 
tliom,    he    slapped   them   proudly.      Nor   had   he   personal 


THE  LETTER.  57 

anitnoslties  of  any  kind.  Ono  sharp  scar,  which  he  called 
his  slioulder-knot,  he  owed  to  the  knife  of  a  friend,  by  name 
Sarpo,  who  had  things  ready  to  betray  him,  and  struck  him, 
in  anticipation  of  that  tremendous  moment  of  surprise  and 
\sTath  when  the  awakened  victim  frequently  is  nerved  with 
devil's  strength ;  but,  striking,  like  a  novice,  on  tlie  bone, 
the  stilet  stuck  there  ;  and  Barto  coolly  got  him  to  point  the 
outlet  of  escape,  and  walked  off,  carrying  tlie  blade  where 
the  terrified  assassin  had  planted  it.  This  Sarpo  had  become 
a  tradesman  in  Milan — a  bookseller  and  small  printer ;  and 
he  was  unmolested.  Barto  said  of  him  that  he  was  as  bad 
as  a  few  odd  persons  tnought  himself  to  be,  and  had  in  him 
the  making  of  a  great  traitor ;  but  that,  as  Sarpo  hated  him 
and  had  sought  to  be  rid  of  him  for  private  reasons  only,  it 
was  a  pity  to  waste  on.  such  a  fellow  steel  that  should  serve 
the  Cause.  "  While  I  liv^c,"  said  Barto,  "  my  enemies  have 
a  tolerably  active  conscience."  The  absence  of  personal 
animosity  in  him  was  not  due  to  magnanimity.  He  doubted 
the  patriotism  of  all  booksellers.  He  had  been  twice 
betrayed  by  women.  He  never  attempted  to  be  revenged  on 
them  ;  but  he  doubted  the  patriotism  of  all  women.  "  Use 
them ;  keep  eye  on  them,"  he  said.  In  Venice  he  had  con- 
spired when  he  was  living  there  as  the  clerk  of  a  notary ;  in 
Bologna  subsequently  while  earning  his  bread  as  a  petty 
schoolmaster.  His  evasions,  both  of  Papal  sbirri  and 
the  Austrian  polizia,  furnished  instances  of  astonishing 
audacity  that  made  his  name  a  by- word  for  mastery  in  the 
hour  of  peril.  His  residence  in  jNIilan  now,  after  seven 
years  of  exile  in  England  and  Switzerland,  was  an  act  of 
pointed  defiance,  incomprehensible  to  his  own  party,  and 
only  to  be  explained  by  the  prevalent  belief  that  the  authori- 
ties feared  to  provoke  a  collision  with  the  people  by  laying 
hands  on  him.  They  had  only  once  made  a  visitation  to  his 
house,  and  appeared  to  be  satisfied  at  not  finding  him.  Ai, 
that  period  Austria  was  simulating  benevolence  in  her  Lom- 
bardic  provinces,  with  the  half  degree  of  persuasive  earnest- 
ness which  makes  a  Government  lax  in  its  vigilance,  and 
leaves  it  simply  open  to  the  charge  of  effetonoss.  There 
were  contradictory  rumours  as  to  whether  his  house  had 
ever  been  visited  by  the  polizia ;  but  it  was  a  legible  fact 
that  his  name  was  on  the  window,  and  it  was  nndorstoDil 
that  he  was  not  without  elusive  contrivances  in  the  event 


OS  VITTORIA. 

of  the  authorities  declaring  war  against  him.  Of  the 
nature  of  these  contrivances  Luigi  had  just  learnt  some- 
thing. He  had  heard  Barto  Rizzo  called  '  The  Miner ' 
and  '  The  Great  Cat,'  and  he  now  comprehended  a  little  of 
the  quality  of  his  employer.  He  had  entered  a  very  different 
service  from  that  of  the  signer  Antonio-Pericles,  who  paid 
him  for  nothing  more  than  to  keep  eye  on  Vittoria,  and 
recount  her  goings  in  and  out ;  for  what  absolute  object  he 
was  unaware,  but  that  it  was  not  for  a  political  one  he  was 
certain.  "  Cursed  be  the  day  when  the  lust  of  gold  made 
me  open  my  hand  to  Barto  Rizzo !  "  he  thought ;  and  could 
only  reflect  that  life  is  short  and  gold  is  sweet,  and  that  ho 
was  in  the  claws  of  the  Great  Cat.  He  had  met  Barto  in  a 
wine-shop.  He  cursed  the  habit  which  led  him  to  call  at 
that  shop  ;  the  thirst  which  tenapted  him  to  drink  :  the  ear 
which  had  been  seduced  to  listen.  Tet  as  all  his  expenses 
had  been  paid  in  advance,  and  his  reward  at  the  instant  of 
his  application  for  it ;  and  as  the  signorina  and  Barto  were 
both  good  patriots,  and  he,  Luigi,  was  a  good  patriot,  what 
harm  could  be  done  to  her  ?  Both  she  and  Barto  had 
stamped  their  different  impressions  on  his  waxen  nature. 
He  reconciled  his  service  to  them  separately  by  the  exclama- 
tion that  they  were  both  good  patriots. 

The  plot  for  the  rising  in  Milan  city  was  two  months  old. 
It  comprised  some  of  the  nobles  of  the  city,  and  enjoyed  the 
good  wishes  of  the  greater  part  of  them,  whose  payment  of 
fifty  to  sixty  per  cent,  to  the  Government  on  the  revenue  of 
their  estates  was  sufficient  reason  for  a  desire  to  change 
masters,  positively  though  they  might  detest  Republicanism, 
and  dread  the  shadow  of  anarchy.  These  looked  hopefully 
to  Charles  Albert.  Their  motive  was  to  rise,  or  to  counten- 
ance a  rising,  and  summon  the  ambitious  Sardinian  monarch 
with  such  assurances  of  devotion,  that  a  Piedmontese  army 
would  be  at  the  gates  when  the  banner  of  Austria  was  in  the 
dust.  Among  the  most  active  members  of  the  prospectively 
insurgent  aristocracy  of  Milan  was  Count  Medole,  a  young 
nobleman  of  vast  wealth  and  possessed  of  a  reliance  on  his 
powers  of  mind  that  induced  him  to  tojke  a  prominent  part 
in  the  opening  deliberations,  and  speedily  necessitated  his 
hire  of  the  fi'iendly  offices  of  one  who  could  supply  him  with 
facts,  with  suggestions,  with  counsel,  with  fortitude,  with 
every  tiling  to  strengthen  his  pretensions  to  the  leadership, 


THE  LETTER.  59 

excepting  money.  He  discovei'cd  his  man  in  Barto  Rizzo, 
who  quitted  the  ranks  of  the  republican  section  to  serve  him, 
and  wield  a  tool  for  his  own  party.  By  the  help  of  Agostino 
Balderini,  Carlo  Ammiani,  and  others,  the  aristocratic  and 
the  republican  sections  of  the  conspiracy  were  brought  near 
enough  together  to  permit  of  a  common  action  between  them, 
though  the  maintaining  of  such  harmony  demanded  an 
extreme  and  tireless  delicacy  of  management.  The  pre- 
sence of  the  Chief,  whom  we  have  seen  on  the  Motterone, 
was  claimed  by  other  cities  of  Italy.  Unto  him  solely  did 
Barto  Rizzo  yield  thorough  adhesion.  He  being  absent 
from  Milan,  Barto  undertook  to  represent  him  and  carry 
out  his  views.  How  far  he  was  entitled  to  do  so  may  be 
guessed  when  it  is  stated  that,  on  the  ground  of  his  general 
contempt  for  women,  he  objected  to  the  proposition  that 
Vittoria  should  give  the  signal.  The  proposition  was 
Agostino's.  Count  Medole,  Barto,  and  Agostino  discussed 
it  secretly :  Barto  held  i-esolutely  against  it,  until  Agostino 
thrust  a  sly-handed  letter  into  his  fingers  and  let  him  know 
that  previous  to  any  consultation  on  the  subject  he  had 
gained  the  consent  of  his  Chief.  Barto  then  fell  silent.  He 
despatched  his  new  spy,  Luigi,  to  the  Motterone,  more  for 
the  purpose  of  giving  him  a  schooling  on  the  expedition, 
and  on  his  return  from  it,  and  so  getting  hand  and  brain  and 
soul  service  out  of  him.  He  expected  no  such  a  report  of 
Vittoria's  indiscretion  as  Luigi  had  spiced  with  his  one 
foolish  lie.  That  she  should  tell  the  relatives  of  an  Austrian 
officer  that  Milan  was  soon  to  be  a  dangerous  place  for 
them; — and  that  she  should  write  it  on  paper  and  leave 
it  for  the  officer  to  read, — left  her,  according  to  Barto's 
reading  of  her,  open  to  the  alternative  charges  of  idiotcy 
or  of  ti^eachory.  Her  letter  to  the  English  lady,  the 
Austrian  officer's  sister,  was  an  exaggeration  of  the 
offence,  but  lent  it  more  the  look  of  heedless  folly.  The 
point  was  to  obtain  sight  of  her  letter  to  the  Austrian 
officer  himself.  Barto  was  baffled  during  a  course  of  anxious 
days  that  led  closely  up  to  the  fifteenth.  She  had  written 
no  letter.  Lieutenant  Pierson,  the  officer  in  question,  had 
ridden  into  the  city  once  from  Verona,  and  had  called  upon 
Antonio-Pericles  to  extract  her  address  from  him ;  the 
Greek  had  denied  that  she  was  in  Milan.  Luigi  could  tell 
no  more.     He  described  the  officer's  personal  appearance,  by 


CO  VITTOEIA. 

paying  that  he  was  a  recognizable  EnglislimaTi  in  Austrian 
dragoon  uniform  ; — white  tunic,  white  helmet,  brown  mous- 
tache ; — ay  !  and  eh  !  and  oh  !  and  ah  !  coming  frequently 
from  his  mouth ;  that  he  stood  square  while  speaking,  and 
seemed  to  like  his  own  smile ; — an  extraordinary  touch  of 
portraiture,  or  else  a  scoif  at  insular  self-satisfaction;  at 
any  rate,  it  commended  itself  to  the  memory.  Barto  dis- 
missed him,  telling  him  to  be  daily  in  attendance  on  the 
English  lady. 

Barto  Rizzo's  respect  for  the  Chief  was  at  war  with  his 
intense  conviction  that  a  blow  should  be  struck  at  Yittoria 
even  upon  the  narrow  information  which  he  possessed. 
Twice  betrayed,  his  dreams  and  haunting  thoughts  cried 
"Shall  a  woman  betray  you  thrice  ?"  In  his  imagination 
he  stood  identified  with  Italy :  the  betrayal  of  one  meant 
that  of  both.  Falling  into  a  deep  reflection,  Barto  counted 
over  his  hours  of  conspiracy :  he  counted  the  Chief's  ;  com- 
paring the  two  sets  of  figures  he  discovered  that,  as  he  had 
suspected,  he  was  the  elder  in  the  patriotic  work  :  therefore, 
if  he  bowed  his  head  to  the  Chief,  it  was  a  voluntary  act,  a 
form  of  respect,  and  not  the  surrendering  of  his  judgement. 
lie  was  on  the  spot :  the  Chief  was  absent.  Barto  reasoned 
that  the  Chief  could  have  had  no  experience  of  women,  see- 
ing that  he  was  ready  to  trust  in  them.  "  Do  I  trust  to  my 
pigeon,  my  sling-stone  ?"  he  said  jovially  to  the  thick- 
browed,  splendidly  ruddy  young  woman,  who  was  his  wife ; 
"  do  I  trust  her  ?  Not  half  a  morsel  of  her!"  This  young 
woman,  a  peasant  woman  of  remarkable  personal  attractions, 
served  him  with  the  fidelity  of  a  fascinated  animal,  and  the 
dumbness  of  a  wooden  vessel.  She  could  have  hanged  him, 
had  it  pleased  her.  She  had  all  his  secrets  :  but  it  was  not 
vain  speaking  on  Barto  Rizzo's  part ;  he  was  master  of  her 
will ;  and  on  the  occasions  when  he  showed  that  he  did  not 
trust  her,  he  was  careful  at  the  same  time  to  shock  and 
subdue  her  senses.  Her  report  of  Vittoria  was,  that  she 
went  to  the  house  of  the  signora  Laura  Piaveni,  widow  of 
the  latest  heroic  son  of  Milan,  and  to  that  of  the  maestro 
Rocco  Ricci  ;  to  no  other.     It  was  also  Luigi's  report. 

*'  She's  true  enough,"  the  woman  said,  evidently  permit- 
ting herself  to  entertain  an  opinion  j  a  sign  that  she  required 
fresh  schooling. 


THE  LETTER.  61 

"  So  are  you,"  said  Barto,  and  eyed  her  in  a  way  tliat 
made  her  ask,  "  Now,  what's  for  me  to  do  ?" 

He  thought  awliile. 

"  You  will  see  the  colonel.  Tell  him  to  come  in  corporal's 
uniform.  Wliat's  the  little  wretch  twisting  her  body  foi-  ? 
Shan't  I  embrace  her  presently  if  she's  obedient  ?  Send  to 
the  polizia.  You  believe  your  husband  is  in  the  city,  and 
will  visit  you  in  disguise  at  the  corporal's  hour.  They  seize 
him.  They  also  examine  the  house  up  to  the  point  where 
we  seal  it.  Youi'  object  is  to  learn  whether  the  Austrians 
are  moving  men  upon  Milan.  If  they  are — I  learn  some- 
thing, when  the  house  has  been  examined,  our  court  hei'e 
will  have  rest  for  a  good  month  ahead  ;  and  it  suits  me  not 
to  be  disturbed.  Do  this,  and  we  will  have  a  red-wine 
evening  in  the  house,  shat  up  alone,  my  snake !  my  pepper- 
flower  !" 

It  happened  that  Luigi  was  entering  the  court  to  keep  an 
appointment  with  Barto  when  he  saw  a  handful  of  the 
polizia  burst  into  the  house  and  drag  out  a  soldier,  who  v/as 
in  the  unifni-m,  as  he  guessed  it  to  be,  of  the  Pi-ohaska 
regiment.  The  soldier  struggled  and  offered  money  to  them. 
Luigi  could  not  help  shouting,  "  You  fools  !  don't  you  see 
he's  au  officer  ?"  Two  of  them  took  their  captive  aside. 
The  rest  made  a  search  through  the  house.  While  they 
were  doing  so  Luigi  saw  IJarto  Rizzo's  face  at  the  windows 
of  the  house  opposite.  He  clamoured  at  the  door,  but  Barto 
was  denied  to  him  there.  When  the  polizia  had  gone  from 
the  court,  he  was  admitted  and  allowed  to  look  into  every 
room.  jSTot  finding  him,  he  said,  "  Barto  Rizzo  does  not 
keep  his  appointments,  then  !"  The  same  words  were  re- 
peated in  his  ear  when  he  had  left  the  court,  and  was  in  the 
street  running  parallel  with  it.  "  Barto  Rizzo  does  not  keep 
liis  appointments,  then!"  It  was  Barto  who  smacked  him 
on  the  back,  and  s])oke  out  his  own  name  with  brown-faced 
hiughter  in  the  bustling  street.  Lnigi  was  so  impressed  hy 
his  cunning  and  his  recklessness  tliat  he  at  once  told  him 
ni  ore  than  he  Avished  to  tell: — The  Austrian  officer  was  with 
his  sister,  and  had  written  to  the  signorina,  and  Luigi  had 
d(!livered  the  letter ;  but  the  signorina  was  at  the  maestro's, 
Bocco  Ricci's,  and  there  was  no  answer:  the  ol'ucer  was 
leaving  for  Vex-ona  in  the  morning.  After  telling  so  mncli, 
Luigi  Ui«ew  back,  feeling  that  he  had  given  Barto  hia  full 


62  VITTOPJA. 

measure  and  owed  to  the  signorina  what  remained.  Barto 
probably  read  nothing  of  the  mind  of  his  spy,  but  understood 
that  it  was  a  moment  for  distrust  of  him.  Vittoria  and  her 
mother  lodged  at  the  house  of  one  Zotti,  a  confectioner, 
dwelling  between  the  Duonio  and  La  Scala.  Luigi,  at 
Barto's  bidding,  left  word  with  Zotti  that  he  would  call  for 
the  signorina's  answer  to  a  certain  letter  about  sunrise.  "  I 
promised  my  Rosellina,  my  poppy-headed  sipper,  a  red- wine 
evening,  or  I  would  hold  this  fellow  under  my  eye  till  the 
light  comes,"  thought  Barto  misgivingly,  and  let  him  go, 
Luigi  slouched  about  the  English  lady's  hotel.  At  uightfaTl 
her  brother  came  forth.  Luigi  directed  him  to  be  in  the 
square  of  the  Duomo  by  sunrise,  and  slipped  from  his  hold ; 
the  officer  ran  after  him  some  distance.  "  She  can't  say  I  was 
false  to  her  now,"  said  Luigi,  dancing  with  nervous  ecstasy. 
At  sunrise  Barto  Rizzo  was  standing  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Duomo.  Luigi  passed  him  and  went  to  Zotti's  house, 
where  the  letter  was  placed  in  his  hand,  and  the  door  shut 
in  his  face.  Barto  rushed  to  him,  but  Luigi,  with  a  vixenish 
countenance,  standing  like  a  humped  cat,  hissed,  "  Would 
you  destroy  my  reputation  and  have  it  seen  that  I  deliver  up 
letters,  under  the  noses  of  the  writers,  to  the  wrong  persons  "r* 
— ha !  pestilence !"  He  ran,  Barto  following  him.  They 
were  crossed  by  the  officer  on  hoi'seback,  who  challenged 
Luigi  to  give  up  the  letter,  which  was  very  plainly  being 
tluaist  from  his  hand  into  his  breast.  The  officer  found  it 
no  difficult  matter  to  catch  him  and  pluck  the  letter  from 
him ;  he  opened  it,  reading  it  on  the  jog  of  the  saddle  as  he 
cantered  oil.  Luigi  turned  in  a  terror  of  expostulation  to 
ward  Barto's  wrath.  Barto  looked  at  him  hard,  while 
he  noted  the  matter  down  on  the  tablet  of  an  ivory  book. 
All  he  said  was,  "  I  have  that  letter !"  stamping  the  asser- 
tion with  an  oath.  Half  an  hour  later  Luigi  saw  Barto  in 
the  saddle,  tight-legged  about  a  rusty  beast,  evidently  bound 
for  the  South-eastern  gate,  his  brows  set  like  a  black  wind. 
"  Blessings  on  his  going !"  thought  Luigi,  and  sang  one  of 
his  street-sonq-s  : — 

"  O  lemons,  lemons,  what  a  taste  you  leave  in  the  mouth  ! 
I  desire  you,  I  love  you,  but  when  I  suck  you,  I'm  all  caught 
up  in  a  bundle  and  turn  to  water,  like  a  wry-faced  fountain. 
Why  not  be  satisfied  by  a  sniff  at  the  blossoms  ?  There's 
j>-ratifi cation.      Why  did   you  grow   up  from   the  precious 


IN  VERONA.  63 

little  sweet  chuck  that  you  were;  ^Marietta  ?  Lemons,  O 
lemons  !  such  a  thing  as  a  decent  appetite  is  not  known  after 
sucking-  at  you." 

His  natural  horror  of  a  resolute  man,  more  than  fear  (of 
which  he  had  no  i-ecollection  in  the  sunny  Piazza),  made  him 
shiver  and  gave  his  tongue  an  acid  taste  at  the  prospect  of 
ever  meeting  Barto  Rizzo  again.  There  was  the  prospect 
also  that  he  might  never  meet  him  again. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


IN  VERONA. 


The  lieutenant  read  these  lines,  as  he  clattered  through 
the  quiet  streets  toward  the  Porta  Tosa  : — 

"  Dear  Friend, — I  am  glad  that  you  remind  me  of  our  old 
affection,  for  it  assures  me  that  yours  is  not  dead.  I  cannot 
consent  to  see  you  yet.  I  would  rather  that  we  should  not 
meet. 

"  I  thought  1  would  sign  my  name  here,  and  say,  *  God 
bless  you,  Wilfrid  ;  go  !' 

"  Oh  !  why  have  you  done  this  thing  !  I  must  write  on. 
It  seems  like  my  past  life  laughing  at  me,  that  my  old  friend 
should  have  come  here  in  Italy,  to  wear  the  detestable 
uniform.  How  can  we  be  friends  when  we  must  act  as 
enemies  ?  We  shall  soon  be  in  arms,  one  against  the  other. 
I  pity  you,  for  you  have  chosen  a  falling  side ;  and  when  you 
arc  beaten  back,  you  can  have  no  pride  in  your  country,  as  we 
Italians  have ;  no  delight,  no  love.  They  will  call  you  a 
mercenary  soldier.  1  remember  that  I  used  to  have  the  fear 
of  your  joining  our  enemies,  when  we  were  in  Eng-land,  but 
it  seemed  too  much  for  my  reason. 

"  You  are  with  a  band  of  butchers.  If  I  could  see  yon  and 
tell  yon  the  story  of  Giacomo  Piaveni,  and  some  other  things, 
I  believe  you  would  break  your  sword  instantly. 

"  There  is  time.  Come  to  Milan  on  the  fifteenth.  You 
will  see  me  then.  I  appear  at  La  Scala.  Promise  me,  if  you 
hear  me,  ihat  you  will  do  exactly  what  I  make  you  feel  it 
right  to  do.     Ah,  you  will  not,  though  thousands  will !     But 


64  VITTOEIA. 

step  aside  to  me,  when  the  curtain  falls,  and  remain — oh,  dear 
friend !  I  write  in  honour  to  you  ;  we  have  sworn  to  free  the 
city  and  the  country — remain  among  us :  break  your  sword, 
tear  off  your  uniform ;  we  are  so  strong  that  we  are  irresist- 
ible. I  know  what  a  hero  you  can  be  on  the  field :  then, 
why  not  in  the  true  cause  ?  I  do  not  understand  that  you 
should  waste  your  bravery  under  that  ugly  flag,  bloody  and 
past  forgiveness. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  news  of  you  all,  and  of  England. 
The  bearer  of  this  is  a  trusty  messenger,  and  will  continue 
to  call  at  the  hotel.  A.  is  offc^nded  that  I  do  not  allow  my 
messenger  to  give  my  address  ;  but  I  must  not  only  be  hidden, 
I  must  have  peace,  and  forget  you  all  until  I  have  done  my 
task.  Addio.  We  have  both  changed  names.  I  am  the 
saiae.     Can  I  think  that  you  are  ?     Addio,  dear  friend. 

"  VlTTORIA." 

Lieutenant  Pierson  read  again  and  again  the  letter  of  her 
whom  he  had  loved  in  England,  to  get  new  lights  from  it,  as 
lovers  do  when  they  have  lost  the  power  to  take  single  im- 
pressions. He  was  the  beai-er  of  a  verbal  despatch  from  the 
commandant  in  Milan  to  the  Marshal  in  Verona.  At  that 
period  great  favour  was  shown  to  Englishmen  in  the  j^ustrian 
service,  and  the  lieutenant's  uncle  being  a  General  of  distinc- 
tion, he  had  a  sort  of  semi-attachment  to  the  Marshal's  staff, 
and  was  hurried  to  and  fro,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  him 
out  of  duelling  scrapes,  as  many  of  his  friendlier  comrades 
surmised.  The  right  to  the  distinction  of  exercising  staif- 
duties  is,  of  course,  only  to  be  gained  by  stout  competitorship 
in  the  Austrian  service ;  but  favour  may  do  something  for  a 
young  man  even  in  that  rigorous  school  of  Arms.  He  had  to 
tui'n  to  Brescia  on  his  way,  and  calculated  that  if  luck  should 
put  good  horses  under  hiin,  he  would  enter  Verona  gates 
about  sunset.  Meantime,  there  Avas  Vittoria's  letter  to  occupy 
him  as  he  went. 

We  will  leave  him  to  his  bronzing  ride  through  the  mul- 
berries and  the  gi'apes,  and  the  white  and  yellow  and  arid 
hues  of  tbe  September  plain,  and  make  acquaintance  with 
some  of  his  comrades  of  that  proud  army  which  Vittoria 
thought  would  stand  feebly  against  the  pouring  tide  of 
Italian  patriotism. 

The  fairest  of  the  cities  of  the  plain  had  long  been  a  nc-st 


m  VERONA. 


65 


of  foreisrn  soldiery.  The  life  of  its  beauty  was  not  more 
visible  then  than  now.  Within  the  walls  there  are  glimpses 
of  it,  that  belong-  rather  to  the  haunting  spirit  than  to  the 
life.  Military  science  has  made  a  mailed  giant  of  Vei"ona, 
and  a  silent  one,  save  upon  occasion.  Its  face  grins  of  war, 
like  a  skeleton  of  death  ;  the  salient  image  of  the  skull  and 
congi^gating  worms  was  one  that  Italian  lyrists  applied 
naturally  to  Yerona. 

The  old  Field  Marshal  and  chief  commander  of  the  Aus- 
trian forces  in  Lombardy,  prompted  by  the  counsels  of  his 
sagacious  adlatus,  the  chief  of  the  staff,  was  engaged  at  that 
period  in  adding  some  of  those  ugly  round  walls  and  flanking 
bastions  to  Yerona,  upon  which,  when  Austria  was  thrown 
back  by  the  first  outburst  of  the  insurrection  and  the  advance 
of  the  Piedmontese,  she  was  enabled  to  plant  a  sturdy  hind- 
foot,  daring  her  foes  as  from  a  rock  of  defence. 

A  group  of  officers,  of  the  cavalry,  with  a  few  infantry 
uniforms  skirting  them,  were  sitting  in  the  pleasant  cooling 
evening  air,  fanned  by  the  fresh  springing  breeze,  outside  one 
of  the  Piazza  Bra  caffes,  close  upon  the  shadow  of  the  great 
Yerona  amphitheatre.  They  were  smoking  their  attenuated 
long  straw  cigars,  sipping  iced  lemonade  or  coffee,  and  talk- 
ing the  common  talk  of  garrison  officers,  with  perhaps  that 
additional  savour  of  a  robust  immorality  which  a  Yienneso 
social  education  may  give.  The  rounded  ball  of  the  brilliant 
September  moon  hung  still  aloft,  lighting  a  fathomless  sky 
as  well  as  the  fair  earth.  It  threw  solid  blackness  from  the 
old  savage  walls  almost  to-a  junction  with  their  indolent  out- 
stretched feet.  Itinerant  street  music  twittered  along  the 
Piazza  ;  officers  walked  arm-in-arm;  now  in  moonlight  bright 
as  day,  now  in  a  shadow  black  as  night :  distant  figui-es 
twinkled  with  the  alternation.  The  light  lay  like  a  blade's 
sharp  edge  around  the  massive  circle.  Of  Italians  of  a 
superior  rank,  Yerona  sent  none  to  this  resort.  Even  the 
melon-seller  stopped  beneath  the  arch  ending  the  Stradono 
Porta  Nuova,  as  if  he  had  reached  a  marKed  limit  of  his 
popular  curtoraers. 

Tliis  isolation  of  the  rulers  of  Lombardy  had  commenced 
in  Milan,  but,  owing  to  particular  causes,  was  not  positively 
defined  there  as  it  was  in  Yerona.  War  was  already  raging 
between  the  Yeronese  ladies  and  the  officers  of  Austria. 
Accordijig  to   the  Gallic    Terpsichorean  code,  a  lady   who 


G6  VITTORIA. 

permits  herself   to  make    election  of  her  partners   and  to 
reject  applicants  to  the  honour  of  her  hand  in  the  dance, 
Aviien  that  hand  is  disengaged,  has  no  just  ground  of  com- 
plaint if  a  glove  should  smite  her  cheek.     The  Austrians  had 
to   endure  this  sort  of  rejection  in   Ball-rooms.       On   the 
promenade  their  features  were  forgotten.     They  bowed  to 
statues.    'Now,  the  officers  of  Austria  who  do  not  belong  to  & 
Croat  regiment,  or  to    one    drawn    from  any  point  of  the 
extreme  East  of  the  empire,  are  commonly  gentlemanly  men ; 
and  though  they   can  be  vindictive  after  much  irritation, 
they  may  claim  at  least  as  good  a  reputation  for  forbearance 
in  a  cotiquei-ed  country  as  our  officers  in  India.     They  are 
not   ill-humoured,   and   they  are    not    peevishly    arrogant, 
except  upon  provocation.     The  conduct  of  the  tender  Italian 
dames  was  vexatious.     It  was  exasperating  to  these  knights 
of  the  slumbering  sword  to  hear  their  native  waltzes  sound- 
ing of  exquisite  Vienna,  while  their  legs  stretclied  in  melan- 
choly inactivity  on   the    Piazza  pavement,  and  their  arms 
encircled  no  ductile  waists.     They  tried  to  despise  it  more 
than  they  disliked  it,  called  their  female  foes  Amazons,  and 
their  male  by  a  less  complimentary  title,  and  so  waited  for 
the  patriotic  epidemic  to  pass.     A  certain   Captain  Weiss- 
priess,  of  the  regiment  named  after  a  sagacious  monarch 
whose  crown  was  the  sole  floui-ishing  blossom  of  diplomacy, 
particularly  distinguished  himself  by  insisting  that  a  lady 
should  remember  him  in  public  places.     He  was  famous  for 
skill  with  his  weapons.     He  waltzed  admirably;    ei-ect  as 
under   his   Field-Marshal's    eye.      In  the    language  of  his 
brother  officers,  he  was    successful ;  that  is,   even   as  God 
Mars  when  Bellona    does   not  rage.       Captain  Weisspriess 
( Johann  Nepomuk,  Freiherr  von  Scheppenhausen)  resembled 
in  appearance  one  in  the  Imperial  Iloyal  service,  a  gambling 
General  of  Division,  for  whom  Fame  had  not  yet  blown  her 
blast.     Rumour  declared  that  they  might  be  relatives  ;   a 
little-scrupulous  society   did  not  hesitate  to  mention  how. 
The  captain's   moustache  was   straw-coloured ;    he  wore  it 
beyond    the    regulation    length    and    caressed    it  infinitely. 
Surmounted  by  a  pair  of  hot  eyes,  wavering  in  their  direc- 
tion, this  grand  moustache  was  a    feature  to  be  forgotten 
with  difficulty,  and  Weisspriess  was    doubtless    correct  in 
assei'ting  that  his  face  had  endured  a  slight  equal  to  a  buffet. 
He  stood  high  and    square-shouldured ;     the  flame  of    the 


IN  VERONA.  67 

moustaclie  strGamed  on  either  side  his  face  in  a  splendid 
cui've  ;  his  vigilant  head  was  loftily  posted  to  detect  what 
he  chose  to  construe  as  insult,  or  gather  the  smiles  of  appro- 
bation, to  which,  owing  to  the  unerring  judgement  of  the 
sex,  he  was  more  acciistomed.  Handsome  or  not,  he  enjoyed 
the  privileges  of  masculine  beauty. 

This  captain  of  a  renown  to  come  pretended  that  a 
superb  Venetian  lady  of  the  Branciani  family  was  bound 
to  make  response  in  public  to  his  private  signals,  and 
publicly  to  reply  to  his  salutations.  He  refused  to  be  as 
a  particle  in  space  floating  aiinly  before  her  invincible 
aspect.  Meeting  her  one  evening,  ere  sweet  Italy  had  exiled 
herself  from  the  Piazza,  he  bowed,  and  stepping  to  the  front 
of  her,  bowed  pointedly.  She  crossed  her  arms  and  gazed 
over  him.  He  called  up  a  thing  to  her  recollection  in 
resonant  speech.  Shameful  lie,  or  shameful  truth,  it  was 
uttered  in  the  hearing  of  many  of  his  brother  officei'S,  of 
three  Italian  ladies,  and  of  an  Italian  gentleman,  Count 
Broncini,  attending  them.  Tlie  lady  listened  calmly.  Count 
Broncini  smote  him  on  the  face.  That  evening  the  lady's 
brother  arrived  from  Venice,  and  claimed  his  right  to  defend 
her.  Captain  Weisspriess  ran  him  through  the  body,  and 
attached  a  sinister  label  to  his  corpse.  This  he  did  not  so 
much  from  brutality  ;  the  man  felt  that  henceforth  while  he 
held  his  life  he  was  at  war  with  every  Italian  gentleman 
of  mettle.  Count  Broncini  was  his  next  victim.  There,  for 
a  time,  the  slaughtering  business  of  the  captain  stopped. 
His  brother  officers  of  the  better  kind  would  not  have 
excused  him  at  another  season,  but  the  avenger  of  their  irri- 
tation and  fine  vindicator  of  the  merits  of  Austrian  steel 
had  a  welcome  truly  warm,  when  at  the  termination  of  his 
second  duel  he  strode  into  mess,  or  what  serves  for  an 
Austrian  regimental  mess. 

It  ensued  naturally  that  there  was  everywhere  in  Verona 
a  sharp  division  between  the  Italians  of  all  classes  and  their 
conquerors.  The  great  green-rinded  melons  were  never 
wheeled  into  the  neighbourhood  of  the  whitecoats.  Damsels 
were  no  longer  coquettish  under  the  military  glance,  but 
hurried  by  in  couples  ;  and  thei'e  was  much  scowling,  mixed 
with  derisive  servility,  throughout  the  city,  hard  to  bo 
endured  witliout  that  hostile  state  of  the  spirit  which  is  the 
military  mind's  refuge  in  such  ca,ses.     Itinerant  musicians, 

f2 


68  VITTORIA. 

and  none  but  this  fry,  continued  to  bo  attentive  to  the  dis- 
pensers of  soldi. 

The  Austrian  army  prides  itself  upon  being  a  brother- 
hood. Discipline  is  very  strict,  but  all  commissioned  officers, 
when  off  duty,  are  as  free  in  their  intercourse  as  big  boys. 
The  General  accepts  a  cigar  from  the  lieutenant,  and  in 
return  lifts  his  glass  to  him.  The  General  takes  an  interest 
in  his  lieutenant's  love-affairs :  nor  is  the  latter  shy  when 
he  feels  it  his  duty  modestly  to  compliment  his  superior 
officer  upon  a  recent  conquest.  There  is  really  good  fellow- 
ship both  among  the  officers  and  in  the  ranks,  and  it  is- 
systematically  encouraged. 

The  army  of  Austria  was  in  those  days  the  Austrian 
Empire.  Outside  the  army  the  empire  was  a  jealous  congery 
of  intriguing  disaffected  nationalities.  The  same_  policy 
which  played  the  various  States  against  one  another  in  order 
to  reduce  all  to  subserviency  to  the  central  Head,  erected  a 
privileged  force  wherein  the  sentiment  of  union  was  fostered 
till  it  became  a  nationality  of  the  sword.  Nothing  more 
fatal  can  be  done  for  a  country  ;  but  for  an  arrny  it  is  a 
simple  measure  of  wisdom.  Where  the  password  is  marcu, 
and  not  develop,  a  body  of  men,  to  be  a  serviceable  instru- 
ment, must  consent  to  act  as  one.  Hannibal  is  the  historic 
example  of  what  a  General  can  accomplish  with  tribes  who 
are  thus  enrolled  in  a  new  citizenship  ;  and  (as  far  as  we 
know  of  him  and  his  fortunes)  he  appears  to  be  an  example 
of  the  necessity  of  the  fusing  fire  of  action  to  congi-egated 
aliens  in  arms.  When  Austria  was  fighting  year  after  year, 
and  being  worsted  in  campaign  after  campaign,  she  lost  foot 
by  foot,  but  she  held  together  soundly;  and  more  than  the 
baptism,  the  atmosphere  of  strife  has  always  been  required 
to  give  her  a  healthy  vitality  as  a  centralized  empire.  She 
knew  it ;  this  (apart  from  the  famous  promptitude  of  the 
Hapsburgs)  was  one  secret  of  her  dauntless  readiness  to 
fight.  War  did  the  work  of  a  smithy  for  the  iron  and  steel 
holding  her  together ;  and  but  that  war  costs  money,  she 
would  have  been  an  empire  distinguished  by  aggressiveness. 
The  next  best  medicinal  thing  to  war  is  the  military  occupa- 
tion of  insurgent  provinces.  The  soldiery  soon  feel  where 
their  home  is,  and  feel  the  pride  of  atomies  in  unitive  power, 
when  they  are  sneered  at,  hooted,  pelted,  stabbed  upon  a 
gross  misinterpretation  of  the  slightness  of  moral  offences, 


m  VERONA.  69 

isTiame fully  abnscd  for  doinGc  their  duty  witli  a  considerate 
sense  of  it,  and  too  accurately  divided  from  the  inhabitants 
of  the  land  they  hold.  In  Italy,  the  German,  th.e  Czech,  the 
Magyar,  the  Croat,  even  in  general  instances  the  Italian, 
clung  to  the  standard  for  safety,  for  pay,  for  glory,  and  all 
became  pre-eminently  Austrian  soldiers ;  little  besides. 

It  "was  against  a  power  thus  bound  in  iron  hoops,  that 
Italy,  dismembered,  and  jealous,  and  corrupt,  with  an 
organization  promoted  by  passion  chiefly,  was  preparing  to 
rise.  In  the  end,  a  country  true  to  itself  and  determined  to 
claim  God's  gift  to  brave  men  will  overmatch  a  mere  army, 
however  solid  its  force.  But  an  inspired  energy  of  faith  is 
demanded  of  it.  The  intervening  chapters  will  show  pitiable 
weakness,  and  such  a  schooling  of  disaster  as  mates  men, 
looking  on  the  surface  of  things,  deem  the  struggle  folly. 
As  well,  they  might  say,  let  yonder  scuffling  vagabonds  up 
any  of  the  Veronese  side- streets  fall  upon  the  patrol  march- 
ing like  one  man,  and  hope  to  overcome  them !  In  Vienna 
there  was  often  despair  :  but  it  never  existed  in  the  Austrian 
camp.  Vienna  was  frequently  double-dealing  and  time- 
serving :  her  force  in  arms  was  like  a  trained  man  feeling 
his  muscle.  Thus,  when  the  Government  thought  of  tem- 
porizing, they  issued  orders  to  Generals  whose  one  idea  was 
to  strike  the  blow  of  a  mallet. 

At  this  period  there  was  no  suspicion  of  any  grand  revolt 
being  in  process  of  development.  The  abounding  dissatis- 
faction was  treated  as  nothing  more  than  the  Italian  disease 
showinir  svmptoms  here  and  there,  and  Vienna  counselled 
measures  mildly  repressive ; — '  conciliating,  it  was  her  plea- 
sure to  call  them.  Her  recent  commands  with  respect  to 
turbulent  Venice  were  the  subject  of  criticism  among  the 
circle  outside  the  Piazza  caffe.  An  enforced  inactivity  of 
the  military  legs  will  quicken  the  military  wits,  it  would 
appear,  for  some  of  the  younger  officers  spoke  hotly  as  to 
tlieir  notion  of  the  method  of  ruling  Venezia.  One  had 
bidden  his  Herr  General  to  "  look  here,"  while  he  stretched 
forth  his  hand  and  declared  that  Italians  were  like  women, 
and  wanted — yes,  wanted — (tlieir  instinct  called  for  it)  a 
beating,  a  real  beating ;  as  the  emphatic  would  say  in  our 
vei-nacular,  a  thundering  thrashing,  once  a  month: — "Or 
BO,"  the  General  added  acquiescingly.  A  thundering  thrash- 
ing, once  a  month  or  so,  to  these  unruly  Italians,  because 


70  VITTOEIA. 

they  are  lilce  women  !  It  was  a  yonth  who  spoke,  but  none 
doubted  his  acquaintance  with  women,  or  caved  to  suggest 
that  his  education  in  that  department  of  knowledge  was  an 
insuiEcient  guarantee  for  his  fitness  to  govern  Venezia.  Two 
young  dragoon  officers  had  approached  during  the  fervid 
allocution,  and  after  the  salute  to  their  superior,  caught  up 
chairs  and  stamped  them  down,  thereupon  calling  for  the 
loan  of  anybody's  cigar-case.  Where  it  is  that  an  Austrian 
oSicer  ordinarily  keeps  this  instrument  so  necessaiy  to  his 
comfort,  and  obnoxious,  one  would  suppose,  to  the  rigid  cor- 
rectness of  his  shapely  costume,  we  cannot  easily  guess. 
None  can  tell  even  where  he  stows  away  his  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, or  haply  his  purse.  However,  these  things  appear 
on  demand.  Several  elongated  cigar-cases  were  thrust  for- 
ward,  and  then  it  was  seen  that  the  attire  of  the  gallant 
youngsters  was  in  disorder. 

"  Did  you  hunt  her  to  earth  ?"  they  were  asked. 

The  reply  trenched  on  philosophy;  and  consisted  in  an 
inquiry  as  to  who  cared  for  the  whole  basketful — of  the  like 
description  of  damsels,  being  implied.  Immoderate  and  up- 
roarious laughter  burst  around  tlaem.  Both  seemed  to  have 
been  clawed  impartially.  Their  tight-fitting  coats  bulged 
at  the  breast  or  opened  at  the  waist,  as  though  buttons  were 
lacking,  and  the  whiteness  of  that  garment  cried  aloud  for 
the  purification  of  pipeclay.  Questions  flew.  The  damsel 
who  had  been  pursued  was  known  as  a  pretty  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  blacksmith,  and  no  prolonged  resistance  was 
expected  from  one  of  her  class.  But,  as  it  came  out,  she  had 
said,  a  week  past,  "  I  shall  be  stabbed  if  I  am  seen  talking 
to  you ;"  and  therefore  the  odd  matter  was,  not  that  she  had, 
in  tripping  down  the  Piazza  with  her  rogue-eyed  cousin  from 
Milan,  looked  away  and  declined  all  invitation  to  moderate 
her  pace,  and  to  converse ,  but  that,  after  doubling  down  and 
about  lonely  streets,  the  length  of  which  she  ran  as  swiftly 
as  her  feet  would  carry  her,  at  a  corner  of  the  Via  Colomba 
she  allowed  herself  to  be  caught — wilfully,  beyond  a  doubt, 
seeing  that  she  was  not  a  bit  breathed — allowed  one  quick 
taste  of  her  lips,  and  then  shrieked  as  naturally  as  a  netted 
bird,  and  brought  a  hustling  crowd  just  at  that  particular 
point  to  her  rescue  :  not  less  than  fifty,  and  all  men.  "  Not 
a  woman  among  them  !"  the  excited  young  officer  repeated. 
'  A  veteran  in  similar  affairs  could  see  that  he  had  the  wish 


IN  VERONA.  71 

to  remain  undisturbed  in  his  bewilderment  at  the  damsel's 
conduct.  Profound  belief  in  her  partiality  for  him  perplexed 
his  recent  experience  rather  agreeably.  Indeed,  it  was  at 
this  epoch  an  article  of  faith  with  the  Austrian  military 
that  nothing  save  terror  of  their  males  kept  sweet  Italian 
women  from  the  expression  of  their  preference  for  the  broad- 
shouldered,  thiclc-limbed,  yellow-haired  warriors — the  con- 
trast to  themselves  which  is  supposed  greatly  to  inspirit 
genial  Cupid  in  the  selection  from  his  quiver. 

"  What  became  of  her?  Did  you  let  her  go?"  came  pester- 
ing remarks,  too  absurd  for  replies  if  they  had  not  been  so 
persistent. 

" Let  her  go?  In  the  devil's  name,  how  was  I  to  keep  my 
hold  of  her  in  a  crowd  of  fifty  of  the  fellows,  all  mowing, 
and  hustling,  and  elbowing  —  every  rascal  stinking  right 
under  my  nose  like  the  pit  ?" 

'"Hem!"  went  the  General  present.  "As  long  as  you 
did  not  draw  !     Unsheathe,  a  minute." 

He  motioned  for  a  sight  of  their  naked  swords. 

The  couple  of  young  officers  flushed. 

" Herr  Greneral !     Pardon!"  they  remonstrated. 

"  No,  no.  I  know  how  boys  talk ;  I've  been  one  myself. 
Tutt !  You  tell  the  truth,  of  course ;  but  the  business  is  for 
me  to  know  in  what !  ho,w  far !     Your  swords,  gentlemen." 

"  But,  General !" 

"  Well  ?     I  merely  wish  to  examine  the  blades." 

"  Do  you  doubt  our  words  ?" 

"  Hark  at  them  I  Words  ?  Are  you  lawyers  ?  A  soldier 
deals  in  acts.  I  don't  want  to  know  your  words,  but  your 
deeds,  my  gallant  lads.  I  want  to  look  at  the  blades  of  your 
swords,  my  childi-en.  What  was  the  last  order  ?  That  on 
no  account  were  we  to  provoke,  or,  if  possibly  to  be  avoided, 
accept  a  collision,  &c.  &c.  The  soldier  in  peace  is  a  citizen,  &c. 
No  sword  on  any  account,  or  for  any  excuse,  to  be  drawn,  &c. 
You  all  heard  it  ?  So,  good !  I  receive  your  denial,  my 
children.  In  addition,  I  merely  desire  to  satisfy  curiosity. 
Did  the  guard  clear  a  way  for  you  ?" 

The  answer  was  affirmative. 

"Your  swords !" 

One  of  them  drew,  and  proffered  the  handle. 

The  other  clasped  the  haft  angrily,  and  with  a  resolute 
emack  on  it,  settled  it  in  the  scabbard. 


72  VITTORIA. 

"  Am  I  a  prif3oner,  General  ?" 

"Not  at  all!" 

"  Then  I  decline  to  surrender  my  sword." 

Another  General  officer  happened  to  be  sauntermg  by. 
Applauding  with  his  hands,  and  choosing  the  Italian  lan- 
guage as  the  best  form  of  speech  for  the  enunciation  of 
ironical  superlatives,  he  said : — 

"  Eccellentemente !  most  admirable !  of  a  distinguished 
loftiness  of  moral  grandeur :  '  Then  I  decline,'  &c. :  you  are 
aware  that  you  are  quoting  ?  '  as  the  drummer-hoy  said  to 
Napoleon.'  I  think  you  forgot  to  add  that  ?  It  is  the  same 
young  soldier  who  utters  these  immense  things,  which  we 
can  hai'dly  get  out  of  our  mouths.  So  the  little  fellow 
towers !  His  moral  greatness  is  as  noisy  as  his  drum. 
What's  wrong  ?" 

"  General  Pierson,  nothing's  wrong,"  was  replied  by  several 
voi-ces  ;  and  some  explained  that  Lieutenant  Jenna  had  been 
called  upon  by  General  Schoneck  to  show  his  sword,  and 
had  refused. 

The  heroic  defender  of  his  sword  shouted  to  the  officer 
with  whom  General  Pierson  had  been  conversing :  "  Here ! 
Weisspriess !" 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  fellow  ?     Speak,  my  good  Jenna !" 

The  explanation  was  given,  and  full  sympathy  elicited 
from  Captain  Weisspriess,  while  the  two  Generals  likewise 
whispered  and  nodded. 

"  Did  you  draw  ?"  the  captain  inquired,  yawning.  "You 
needn't  say  it  in  quite  so  many  words,  if  you  did.  I  shall 
be  asked  by  the  General  presently ;  and  owing  to  that  duel 
pending  'twixt  you  and  his  nephew,  of  which  he  is  aware, 
he  may  put  a  bad  interpretation  on  your  pepperiness." 

"  The  devil  fetch  his  nephew !"  returned  the  furious 
Lieutenant  Jenna.  "  He  comes  back  to-night  from  Milan, 
and  if  he  doesn't  fight  me  to-morrow,  I  post  him  a  coward. 
Well,  about  that  business  !  My  good  Weisspriess,  the  fellows 
.had  got  into  a  thick  crowd  all  round,  and  had  begun  to 
Jcnead  me.     Do  you  understand  me  ?     I  felt  their  knuckles." 

"  Ah,  good,  good  !"  said  the  captain.  "  Then,  you  didn't 
draw,  of  course.  What  officer  of  the  Imperial  service 
would,  under  similar  circumstances  !  That  is  my  reply  to 
the  Emperor,  if  ever  I  am  questioned.  To  draw,  would  be 
to  show  that  an  Austrian  officer  relies  on  his  good  sword  in 


IN  VERONA.  73 

the  thick  of  his  enemies ; — against  which,  as  you  know,  my 
Jenna,  the  Government  have  issued  an  express  injunction. 
1  see  you  have  lost  a  button.     Did  you  sell  it  dear  ?" 

"  A  fellow  parted  with  his  ear  for  it." 

Lieutenant  Jenna  illustrated  a  particular  cut  from  a  turn 
of  his  wrist. 

"  That  oughtn't  to  make  a  noise  ?"  he  queried  somewhat 
anxiously. 

"  It  won't  hear  one  any  longer,  at  all  events,"  said  Captain 
Weisspriess  ;  and  the  two  officers  entered  into  the  significance 
of  the  remark  with  enjoyment. 

Meantime  General  Pierson  had  concluded  an  apparently 
humorous  dialogue  with  his  brother  General,  and  the  latter, 
now  addressing  Lieutenant  Jenna,  said :  "  Since  you  prefer 
surrendering  your  person  rather  than  your  sword — it  is 
good !  Report  yourself  at  the  door  of  my  room  to-night,  at 
ten.  I  suspect  that  you  have  been  blazing  your  steel,  sir*' 
They  say,  'tis  as  ready  to  flash  out  as  your  temper." 

Several  voices  interposed:  "General!  what  if  he  did 
draw !" 

"Silence.  You  have  read  the  recent  order.  Orlando  may 
liave  his  Dm-indarda  bare ;  but  you  may  not.  Grasp  that 
fact.  The  Government  wish  to  make  Christians  of  you,  my 
children.     One  cheek  being  smitten,  what  should  you  do  ?" 

"Shall  I  show  you.  General?"  cried  a  quick  little 
subaltern. 

"  The  order,  my  children,  as  received  a  fortnight  since 
fi'om  our  old  Wien,  commands  you  to  oif er  the  other  cheek 
to  the  smiter." 

"  So  that  a  proper  balance  may  be  restored  to  both  sides 
of  the  face,"  General  Pierson  appended. 

"  And  mark  me,"  he  resumed.  "  There  may  be  doubts 
about  the  policy  of  anything,  though  I  shouldn't  counsel  you 
to  cherish  them :  but  there's  no  mortal  doubt  about  the 
punishment  for  this  thing."  The  General  spoke  sternly  ; 
and  then  relaxing  the  severity  of  his  tone,  he  said,  "  The 
dcsiie  of  the  Government  is  to  make  an  army  of  Christians." 

"  And  a  precious  way  of  doing  it !"  interjected  two  or 
three  of  the  younger  ofiicers.  They  perfectly  understood 
how  hateful  the  Viennese  domination  was  to  their  chiefs, 
and  that  they  would  meet  sympathy  and  tolerance  for  any 
extreme  of  irony,  provided  that  they  showed  a  disposition 


«4  TITTORIA. 

to  he  snbnrdinate.  For  the  IniroaTicratic  order,  wliatCTer  it 
"was,  had  to  bo  obeyed.  The  army  might,  ajjd  of  coui'se  did, 
know  best :  nevertheless  it  was  bound  to  be  nothing  better 
than  a  machine  in  the  hands  of  the  dull  closeted  men  in 
Vienna,  who  judged  of  difficulties  and  plans  of  action  from 
a  calcu]ation  of  numbei'S,  or  fi-om  foi-eign  journals — from 
heaven  knows  what ! 

General  Schoneck  and  General  Pierson  walked  away 
laughing,  and  the  younger  officers  were  left  to  themselves. 
Half-a-dozen  of  them  interlaced  arms,  striding  up  toward 
the  Porta  Nuova,  near  which,  at  the  comer  of  the  Via 
Trinita,  they  had  the  pleasant  excitement  of  beholding  a 
riderless  horse  suddenly  in  mid  gallop  sink  on  its  knees  and 
roll  over.  A  crowd  came  pouring  after  it,  and  from  the 
midst  the  voice  of  a  comrade  hailed  them.  "  It's  Pierson," 
cried  Lieutenant  Jenna.  The  officers  drew  their  swords, 
and  hailed  the  guard  from  the  gates.  Lieutenant  Pierson 
dropped  in  among  their  shoulders,  dead  from  want  of 
breath.  They  held  him  up,  and  finding  him  sound,  thumped 
his  back.  The  blade  of  his  sword  was  red.  He  coughed 
with  their  thumpings,  and  sang  out  to  them  to  cease ;  the 
idle  mob  which  had  been  at  his  heels  drew  back  before 
the  guard  could  come  up  with  them.  Lieutenant  Pierson 
gave  no  explanation  except  that  he  had  been  attacked 
near  Juliet's  tomb  on  his  way  to  General  Schoneck's 
quarters.  Follows  had  stabbed  his  horse,  and  brought 
him  to  the  ground,  and  torn  the  coat  off  'his  back.  He  com- 
plained in  bitter  mutterings  of  the  loss  of  a  letter  therein, 
duiing  the  fii'st- candid  moments  of  his  anger:  and,  as  he 
was  known  to  be  engaged  to  the  Countess  Lena  von  Lenken- 
stein,  it  was  conjectured  by  his  comrades  that  this  lady 
might  have  had  something  to  do  with  the  ravishment  of  the 
letter.  Gi-eat  laughter  surrounded  him,  and  he  looked  from 
man  to  man.  Allowance  is  naturally  made  for  the  irasci- 
bility of  a  brother  officer  coming  tattered  out  of  the  hands  of 
enemies,  or  Lieutenant  Jenna  would  have  construed  his  eye's 
challenge  on  the  spot.  As  it  was,  he  cried  out,  "  The  letter ! 
the  letter !  Chai7:ce,  for  the  honour  of  the  army,  and  rescue 
the  letter !"  Others  echoed  him  :  "  The  letter  !  the  letter ! 
the  English  letter !"  A  foreigner  in  an  army  can  have  as 
much  provocfition  as  he  pleases ;  if  he  is  anything  of  & 
favourite  with  his  superiors,  his  fellows  will  task  his  ior<. 


m  VERONA.  75 

boarance.  Wilfrid  Picrson  glanced  at  the  blade  of  hit? 
sword,  and  slowly  sheathed  it.  "  Lieutenant  Jeniia  is  a  good 
actor  before  a  mob,"  ho  said.  "  Gentlemen,  I  rely  upon  you 
to  make  no  noise  about  that  letter ;  it  is  a  private  matter. 
In  an  hour  oi-  so,  if  any  officer  shall  choose  to  question  me 
concerning  it,  I  will  answer  him." 

The  last  I'emnants  of  the  mob  had  withdrawn.  The  officer 
in  command  at  the  gates  threw  a  cloak  over  Wilfrid's 
shoulders  ;  and  taking  the  arm  of  a  friend  Wilfrid  hurried 
to  barracks,  and  was  quickly  in  a  position  to  I'eport  himself 
to  his  General,  whose  fii'st  remark,  "  Has  the  dead  horse  been 
removed  ?"  robbed  him  of  his  usual  readiness  to  equivocate. 
"  When  you  are  the  bearer  of  a  verbal  despatch,  come 
straight  to  quarters,  if  you  have  to  come  like  a  fig-tree  on  the 
north  side  of  the  wall  in  Winter,"  said  General  Schoneck, 
who  was  joined  presently  by  General  Pierson. 

"  What's  this  I  hear  of  some  letter  you  have  been  barking 
about  all  over  the  city  ?"  the  latter  asked,  after  returning 
his  nephew's  on-duty  salute. 

Wilfrid  replied  that  it  was  a  letter  of  his  sister's  treating 
of  family  matters. 

The  two  Generals,  who  were  close  friends,  discussed  the 
attack  to  which  he  had  been  subjected.  Wilfrid  had  to 
recount  it  with  circumstance  :  how,  as  he  was  nearing 
General  Schoneck's  quarters  at  a  military  trot,  six  men 
headed  by  a  leader  had  dashed  out  on  him  from  a  narrow 
side-street,  unhorsed  him  after  a  struggle,  rifled  the  saddle- 
bags, and  torn  the  coat  from  his  back,  and  had  taken  the 
mark  of  his  sword,  while  a  gathering  crowd  looked  on, 
hooting.  His  horse  had  fled,  and  he  confessed  that  he  had 
followed  his  horse.  General  Sch(meck  spoke  the  name  of 
Countess  Lena  suggestively.  "  Not  a  bit,"  returned  General 
Pierson ;  "  the  fellow  courts  her  too  hotly.  The  scoundrels 
here  want  a  bombardment ;  that's  where  it  lies.  A  dose  of 
iron  pills  will  make  Verona  a  healthy  place.  She  must 
have  it." 

General  Schoneck  said,  "  I  hope  not,"  and  laughed  at  the 
heat  of  Irish  blood.  He  led  Wilfrid  in  to  the  Marshal,  after 
which  Wilfrid  was  free  to  seek  Lieutenant  Jenna,  who  had 
gained  the  right  to  a  simihu'  freedom  by  pledging  his  honour 
not  to  fight  within  a  stipulated  term  of  days.  The  next 
morning  Wilfrid  was  roused  by  an  orderly  coming  iron,  his 


76  VITTORIA. 

uncle,  who  placed  in  his  hands  a  copy  of  Vittoria's  letter  : 
at  the  end  of  it  his  uncle  had  written,  "  Rather  astonishing. 
Done  pretty  well ;  but  by  a  foreigner.  '  Affection '  spelt 
with  one  '  f.'  An  Italian :  you  will  see  the  letters  are 
emphatic  at  '  ugly  flag  ;'  also  '  bloody  and  past  forgiveness' 
very  large ;  the  copyist  had  a  dash  of  the  feelings  of  a  com- 
mentator, and  did  his  (or  her)  best  to  add  an  oath  to  it. 
WUo  the  deuce,  sir,  is  this  opera  girl  calling  herself  Vit- 
toria  ?  I  have  a  lectui^e  for  you.  German  women  don't 
forgive  diversions  during  courtship ;  and  if  you  let  this 
Countess  Lena  slip,  your  chance  has  gone.  I  compliment 
you  on  your  power  of  lying ;  but  you  must  learn  to  show 
your  right  face  to  me,  or  the  very  handsome  feature,  your 
nose,  and  that  useful  box,  your  skull,  will  come  to  griei. 
The  whole  business  is  a  mystery.  The  letter  (copy)  was 
directed  to  you,  brought  to  me,  and  opened  in  a  fit  of  abstrac- 
tion, necessary  to  commanding  uncles  who  are  trying  to  push 
the  fortunes  of  young  noodles  pretending  to  be  related  to 
them.  Go  to  Countess  Lena.  Count  Paul  is  with  her,  from 
Bologna.  Speak  to  her,  and  observe  her  and  him.  He 
knows  English — has  been  attached  to  the  embassy  in  London  ; 
but,  pooh  !  the  hand's  Italian.  I  confess  myself  puzzled. 
We  shall  possibly  have  to  act  on  the  intimation  of  the 
fifteenth,  and  profess  to  be  wiser  than  others.  Something  is 
brewing  for  business.  See  Countess  Lena  boldly,  and  then 
come  and  breakfast  with  me." 

Wilfrid  read  the  miserable  copy  of  Vittoria's  letter,  utterly 
unable  to  resolve  anything  in  his  mind,  except  that  he  would 
know  among  a  thousand  the  leader  of  those  men  who  had 
attacked  him,  and  who  bore  the  mark  of  his  sword. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    POPES    MOUTH. 


Barto  Rizzo  had  done  what  he  had  sworn  to  do.  He  had 
not  found  it  difficult  to  outstrip  the  lieutenant  (who  had  to 
visit  Brescia  on  his  way)  and  reach  the  gates  of  Verona  in 
advance  of  him,  where  he  obtained  entrance  among  a  body 
of  grape-gatherers  and  others  descending  from  the  hills  to 
meet  a  press  of  labour  in  the  autumnal  plains.     With  them 


THE  pope's  mouth.  77 

he  hoped  to  issue  forth  tinchallcnged  on  the  following  morn- 
ing;  but  Wilfrid's  sword  had  made  lusty  play ;  and,  as  in 
the  case  when  the  order  has  been  given  that  a  man -shall  be 
spared  in  life  and  limb,  Barto  and  his  fellow-assailants 
suffered  by  their  effort  to  hold  him  simply  half  a  minute 
powerless.  He  received  a  shrewd  cut  across  the  head,  and 
lay  for  a  couple  of  hours  senseless  in  the  wine-shop  of  one 
Battista — one  of  the  many  all  over  Lombardy  who  had 
pledged  their  allegiance  to  the  Great  Cat,  thinking  him 
scarcely  vulnerable.  He  read  the  letter,  dizzy  with  pain, 
and  with  the  frankness  proper  to  inflated  spirits  after  loss 
of  blood,  he  owned  to  himself  that  it  was  not  worth  much  as 
a  prize.  It  was  worth  the  attempt  to  get  possession  of  it, 
for  anything  is  worth  what  it  costs,  if  it  be  only  as  a  school- 
ing in  resolution,  energy,  and  devotedness : — regrets  are  the 
sole  admission  of  a  fruitless  business  ;  they  show  the  bad 
tree ; — so,  according  to  his  principle  of  action,  he  deliberated ; 
but  he  was  compelled  to  admit  that  Vittoria's  letter  was 
little  else  than  a  repetition  of  her  want  of  discretion  when 
she  was  on  the  Motterone.  He  admitted  it,  wrathfully  :  his 
efforts  to  convict  this  woman  telling  him  she  deserved  some 
punishment;  and  his  suspicions  being  unsatisfied,  he  resolved 
to  keep  them  hungry  upon  her,  and  return  to  Milan  at  once. 
As  to  the  letter  itself,  he  purposed,  since  the  harm  in  it  was 
accomplished,  to  send  it  back  honourably  to  the  lieutenant, 
till  finding  it  blood-stained,  he  declined  to  furnish  the  grati- 
fication of  such  a  sight  to  any  Austrian  sword.  For  that 
reason,  he  copied  it,  while  Battista's  wife  held  double  band- 
ages tight  round  his  head :  believing  that  the  letter  stood 
transcribed  in  a  precisely  similar  hand,  he  forwarded  it  to 
Lieutenant  Pierson,  and  then  sank  and  swooned.  Two  days 
he  lay  incapable  and  let  his  thoughts  dance  as  they  would. 
Information  was  brought  to  him  that  the  gates  were  strictly 
watched,  and  that  troops  were  starting  for  Milan.  This 
was  in  the  dull  hour  antecedent  to  the  dawn.  "  She  is  a 
traitress  !"  he  exclaimed,  and  leaping  from  his  bed,  as  with 
a  brain  striking  fire,  screamed,  "  Traitress  !  traitress !" 
Battista  and  his  wife  had  to  fling  themselves  on  him  and 
gag  him,  guessing  him  as  mad.  He  spoke  pompously  and 
theatrically ;  called  himself  the  Eye  of  Italy,  and  said  that 
ho  must  be  in  Milan,  or  Milan  would  perish,  because  of  the 
traitress :  all  with  a  great  sullen  air  of  composure  and  an 


78  VITTORIA. 

odd  distension  of  the  eyelids.  When  they  released  him,  he 
smiled  and  thanked  them,  though  they  knew  that,  had  he 
chosen,  he  could  have  thrown  off  a  dozen  of  them,  sach  was 
his  strength.  The  woman  went  down  on  her  knees  to  him 
to  get  his  consent  that  she  should  dress  and  bandage  his 
head  afi^esh.  The  sound  of  the  regimental  bugles  drew  him 
from  the  house,  rather  than  any  immediate  settled  scheme  to 
watch  at  the  gates. 

Artillery  and  infantry  were  in  motion  before  sunrise,  from 
various  points  of  the  city,  bearing  toward  the  Palio  and  Zeno 
gates,  and  the  people  turned  out  to  see  them,  for  it  was  a 
march  that  looked  like  the  beginning  of  things.  The  soldiers 
had  green  twigs  in  their  hats,  and  kissed  their  hands  good- 
humouredly  to  the  gazing  crowd,  shouting  bits  of  verses : — 

"  I'm  off  !  I'm  off  !  Farewell,  Mariandl !  if  I  come  back  a 
sergeant-major  or  a  Field-Marshal,  don't  turn  up  your  nose 
at  me :  Swear  you  will  be  faithful  all  the  while ;  because, 
when  a  woman  swears,  it's  a  comfort,  somehow :  Farewell ! 
Squeeze  the  cow's  udders :  1  shall  be  thirsty  enough :  You 
pretty  wriggler !  don't  you  know,  the  first  cup  of  wine  and 
the  last,  I  shall  float  your  name  on  it  ?  Luck  to  the  lads  we 
leave  behind  !     Farewell,  Mariandl !" 

The  kindly  fellows  waved  their  hands  and  would  take  no 
rebuff.  The  soldiery  of  Austria  are  kindlier  than  most, 
until  their  blood  is  up.  A  Tyrolese  regiment  passed,  singing 
splendidly  in  chorus.  Songs  of  sentiment  prevailed,  but  the 
traditions  of  a  soldier's  experience  of  the  sex  have  informed 
his  ballads  with  strange  touches  of  irony,  that  help  him  to 
his  (so  to  say)  philosojshy,  which  is  recklessness.  The 
Tyroler's  '  Katchen '  here,  was  a  saturnine  Griulia,  who  gave 
him  no  response,  either  of  eye  or  lip. 

"  Little  mother,  little  sister,  little  sweetheart,  ade !  ade ! 
My  little  sweetheart,  your  meadow  is  half-way  up  the  moun- 
tain ;  it's  such  a  green  spot  on  the  eyeballs  of  a  roving  boy  ! 
and  the  chapel  just  above  it,  I  shall  see  it  as  I've  seen  it  a 
thousand  times ;  and  the  cloud  hangs  near  it,  and  moves  to 
the  door  and  enters,  for  it  is  an  angel,  not  a  cloud ;  a  white 
angel  gone  in  to  pray  I'or  Katerlein  and  me :  Little  mother, 
little  sister,  little  sweetheart,  ade  !  ade !  Keep  single,  Kater- 
lein, as  long  as  you  can :  as  long  as  you  can  hold  out,  keep 
single :  ade !" 


THE  pope's  MOUTH-  79 

Fifteen  hmidred  men  and  six  guns  were  counted  as  thej 
marched  on  to  one  gate. 

Barto  Rizzo,  with  Battista  and  Ms  wife  on  each  side  of  him, 
were  among  the  spectators.  The  black  cock's  feathers  of  the 
Tyrolese  were  still  fluttering  up  the  Corso,  when  the  woman 
eaid,  "  I've  known  the  tail  of  a  regiment  get  through  the  gates 
without  having  to  show  paper." 

Battista  thereupon  asked  Barto  whether  he  would  try  that 
chance.  The  answer  was  a  vacuous  shake  of  the  head,  ac- 
companied by  an  expression  of  unutterable  mournfulness. 
"  There's  no  other  way,"  pursued  Battista,  "  unless  you  jump 
into  the  Adige,  and  swim  down  half  a  mile  under  water;  and 
cats  hate  water — eh,  my  comico  ?" 

He  conceived  that  the  sword-cut  had  rendered  Barto 
imbecile,  and  pulled  his  hat  down  his  forehead,  and  patted 
his  shoulder,  and  bade  him  have  cheer,  patronizingly :  but 
women  do  not  so  lightly  lose  their  impression  of  a  notable 
man.  His  wife  checked  him.  Barto  had  shut  his  eyes,  and 
hung  swaying  between  them,  as  in  drowsiness  or  druiiken- 
ness.  Like  his  body,  his  faith  was  swaying  within  him.  He 
felt  it  borne  upon  the  reeling  brain,  and  clung  to  it  despe- 
rately, calling  upon  chance  to  aid  him ;  for  he  was  weak, 
incapable  of  a  physical  or  mental  contest,  and  this  part  of  his 
settled  creed — that  human  being-s  alone  failed  the  patriotic 
cause  as  instruments,  while  circumstances  constantly  be- 
friended it — was  shocked  by  present  events.  The  image  of 
Vittoria,  the  traitress,  floated  over  the  soldiery  marching  on 
Milan  through  her  treachery.  I^ever  had  an  Austrian  force 
seemed  to  him  so  terrible.  He  had  to  yield  the  internal 
fight,  and  let  his  faith  sink  and  be  blackened,  in  order  that 
his  mind  might  rest  supine,  according  to  his  remembered 
system ;  for  the  inspiration  which  points  to  the  right  course 
does  not  come  during  mental  strife,  but  after  it,  when  faitli 
summons  its  agencies  undisturbed — if  only  men  will  have  the 
faith,  and  will  teach  themselves  to  know  that  the  inspiration 
must  come,  and  will  counsel  them  justly.  This  was  a  part 
of  Barto  Rizzo's  sustaining  creed ;  nor  did  he  lose  his  grasp 
of  it  in  the  torment  and  the  darkness  of  his  condition. 

He  heard  English  voices.  A  carriage  had  stopped  almost 
in  front  of  him.  A  General  officer  was  hat  in  hand,  tallving 
to  a  lady,  who  cialled  him  uncle,  and  said  that  she  had  been 
obliged  to  decide  to  quit  Verona  on  account  of  her  husband. 


80  VITTORIA. 

to  whom  the  excessive  heat  was  nnendnrable.  Her  hiisbancl, 
in  the  same  breath,  protested  that  the  heat  killed  him.  Ho 
adorned  the  statement  with  all  kinds  of  domestic  and  subter- 
ranean imagery,  and  laughed  faintly,  saying  that  after  the 
fifteenth — on  which  night  his  wife  insisted  upon  going  to  the 
Opera  at  Milan  to  hear  a  new  singer  and  old  friend — he 
should  try  a  week  at  the  Baths  of  Bormio,  and  only  drop 
from  the  mountains  when  a  proper  temperature  reigned,  he 
being  something  of  an  invalid. 

"  And,  uncle,  will  you  be  in  Milan  on  the  fifteenth  ?"  said 
the  lady ;  "  and  Wilfrid,  too  ?" 

"  Wilfrid  will  reach  Milan  as  soon  as  you  do,  and  I  shall 
undoubtedly  be  there  on  the  fifteenth,"  said  the  General. 

"  I  cannot  possibly  express  to  you  how  beautiful  I  think 
your  army  looks,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Fine  men,  General  Pierson,  very  fine  men.  I  never 
saw  such  marching — equal  to  our  Guards,"  her  husband 
remarked. 

The  lady  named  her  Milanese  hotel  as  the  General  waved 
his  plumes,  nodded,  and  rode  off. 

Before  the  carriage  had  started,  Barto  Rizzo  dashed  up  to 
it ;  and  "  Dear  good  English  lady,"  he  addressed  her,  "  I  am 
the  brother  of  Luigi,  who  carries  letters  for  you  in  Milan — • 
little  Luigi ! — and  I  have  a  mother  dying  in  Milan ;  and  here 
I  am  in  Verona,  ill,  and  can't  get  to  her,  poor  soul !  Will 
you  allow  me  that  I  may  sit  up  behind  as  quiet  as  a  mouse, 
and  be  near  one  of  the  lovely  English  ladies  who  are  so  kind 
to  unfortunate  persons,  and  never  deaf  to  the  name  of  charity  ? 
It's  my  mother  who  is  dying,  poor  soul  !" 

The  lady  consulted  her  husband's  face,  which  presented 
the  total  blank  of  one  who  refused  to  be  responsible  for  an 
opinion  hostile  to  the  claims  of  charity,  while  it  was  impos- 
sible for  him  to  fall  in  with  foreign  habits  of  familiarity,  and 
accede  to  extraordinary  petitions.  Barto  sprang  up.  "  I 
shall  be  your  courier,  dear  lady,"  he  said,  and  commenced  his 
professional  career  in  her  service  by  shouting  to  the  vetturino 
to  drive  on.  Wilfrid  met  them  as  he  was  trotting  down  from 
the  Porta  del  Palio,  and  to  him  his  sister  confided  her  new 
trouble  in  having  a  strange  man  attached  to  her,  who  might 
be  anything.  "  We  don't  know  the  man,"  said  her  husband; 
and  Adela  pleaded  for  him :  "  Don't  speak  to  him  harshly, 
pray,  Wilfrid ;  he  says  he  has  a  mother  dying  in  Milan." 


THE  pope's  mouth.  81 

Barto  kept  Ms  head  down  on  his  arms  and  groaned ;  Adcla 
gave  a  doleful  little  grimace.  "  Oh,  take  the  poor  heggar," 
said  Wilfrid ;  and  sang  out  to  him  in  Italian :  "  Who  are 
you — what  are  you,  my  fine  fellow  ?"  Barto  groaned 
louder,  and  replied  in  Swiss-French  from  a  smothering 
depth:  "A  poor  man,  and  the  gracious  lady's  servant  till 
we  reach  Milan." 

"I  can't  wait,"  said  Wilfrid;  "I  start  in  half-an-hour. 
It's  all  right ;  you  must  take  him  now  you've  got  him,  or 
else  pitch  him  out — one  of  the  two.  If  things  go  on  quietly 
we  shall  have  the  Autumn  manoeuvres  in  a  week,  and  then 
you  may  see  something  of  the  army."  He  rode  away. 
Barto  passed  the  gates  as  one  of  the  licenced  English  family. 

Milan  was  more  strictly  guarded  thau  when  he  had  quitted 
it.  He  had  anticipated  that  it  would  be  so,  and  tamed  his 
spirit  to  submit  to  the  slow  stages  of  the  carriage,  spent  a 
fiery  night  in  Brescia,  and  entered  the  city  of  action  on  the 
noon  of  the  fourteenth.  Safe  within  the  walls,  he  thanked 
the  English  lady,  assuring  her  that  her  charitable  deed 
would  be  remembered  aloft.  He  then  turned  his  steps  in 
the  direction  of  the  Revolutionary  post-office.  This  place 
was  nothing  other  than  a  blank  abutment  of  a  corner  house 
that  had  long  been  undergoing  repair,  and  had  a  great  bank 
of  brick  and  mortar  rubbish  at  its  base.  A  stationary 
melon-seller  and  some  black  fig  and  vegetable  stalls  occupied 
the  triangular  space  fronting  it.  The  removal  of  a  square 
piece  of  cement  showed  a  recess,  where,  chiefly  during  the 
night,  letters  and  proclamation  papers  were  deposited,  for 
the  accredited  postman  to  disperse  them.  Hither,  as  one 
would  go  to  a  cafte  for  the  news,  Barto  Rizzo  came  in  the 
broad  glare  of  noon,  and  flinging  himself  down  like  a  tired 
man  under  the  strip  of  shade,  worked  with  a  hand  behind 
him,  and  drew  out  several  folded  scraps,  of  which  one  was 
addressed  to  him  by  his  initials.     He  ojiened  it  and  read  :— 

"  Your  house  is  watched. 

"  A  corporal  of  the  P  .  .  .  .  ka  regiment  was  seen  leaving 
it  this  morning  in  time  for  the  second  bugle. 

"  lieply  : — where  to  meet. 

"  Spies  are  doubled,  troops  coming. 

"The  nninbcrs  in  Verona; — who  heads  them. 

"  Look  to  your  wife. 

*'  Letters  are  called  for  every  third  hour." 

Barto  snoored   indolently  at  this  fresh    evidence    of   the 


82  VITTOIIIA. 

small  amount  of  intelligence  which  he  could  ever  learn  from 
others.  He  threw  his  eyes  all  round  the  vacant  space  while 
jDencilling  in  reply  : — 

"  V.  waits  for  M.,  but  in  a  box  "  (that  is,  Verona  for 
Milan).     "  We  take  the  key  to  her. 

"  I  have  no  wife,  but  a  little  pupil. 

"  A  Lieutenant  Pierson,  of  the  dragoons,  Czech ; — whito 
coats,  helmets  without  plumes ;  an  Englishman,  nephew  of 
General  Pierson :  speaks  crippled  Italian ;  retui-ns  from  V. 
to-day.     Keep  eye  on  him ; — what  house,  what  hour." 

Meditating  awhile,  Barto  wrote  out  Vittoria's  name  and 
enclosed  it  in  a  thick  black  ring. 

Beneath  it  he  wi'ote  : — 

"  The  same  on  all  the  play- bills. 

"  The  Fifteenth  is  cancelled. 

"  We  meet  the  day  after. 

"  At  the  house  of  Count  M.  to-night." 

He  secreted  this  missive,  and  wrote  Vittoria's  name  on 
numbers  of  slips  to  divers  addresses,  heading  them,  "  From 
the  Pope's  Mouth,"  such  being  the  title  of  the  Revolutionary 
post-office,  to  whatsoever  spot  it  might  in  prudence  shift. 
The  title  was  entirely  complimentary  to  his  Holiness. 
Tangible  freedom,  as  well  as  airy  blessings,  were  at  that 
time  anticipated,  and  not  without  warrant,  from  the  mouth 
of  the  successor  of  St.  Peter.  From  the  Pope's  Mouth  the 
clear  voice  of  Italian  liberty  was  to  issue.  This  sentiment 
of  the  period  was  a  natural  and  a  joyful  one,  and  endowed 
the  popular  ebullition  with  a  sense  of  unity  and  a  stamp  of 
righteousness  tlaat  the  abstract  idea  of  liberty  could  not 
assure  to  it  before  martyrdom.  After  suffering,  after  walk- 
ing in  the  shades  of  death  and  despair,  men  of  worth  and  of 
valour  cease  to  take  high  personages  as  representative  objects 
of  worship,  even  when  these  (as  the  good  Pope  was  then 
doing)  benevolently  bless  the  nation  and  bid  it  to  have  great 
hope,  with  a  voice  of  authority.  But,  for  an  extended 
popular  movement  a  great  name  is  like  a  consecrated  banner. 
Proclamations  fi-om  the  Pope's  Mouth  exacted  reverence, 
and  Barto  Rizzo,  who  despised  the  Pope  (because  he  was 
Pope,  doubtless),  did  not  hesitate  to  make  use  of  him  by 
virtue  of  his  office. 

Barto  lay  against  the  heap  of  rubbish,  waiting  for  the 
approach  of  his  trained  lad,  Checco,  a  lanky  simpleton, 
cunning  as  a  pure  idiot,  who  was  doing  postman's  duty, 


THE  pope's  mouth.  83 

when  a  kick,  delivered  by  that  youth  behind,  sent  him 
bounding  round  "with  rage,  like  a  fish  in  air.  The  market- 
place resounded  with  a  clapping  of  hands ;  for  it  was  here 
that  Checco  came  daily  to  eat  figs,  and  it  was  known  that 
the  '  povero,'  the  dear  half-witted  creature,  would  not 
tolerate  an  intruder  in  the  place  where  he  stretched  his 
limbs  to  peel  and  suck  in  the  gummy  morsels  twice  or  thrice 
a  day.  Barto  seized  and  shook  him.  Checco  knocked  oiS  his 
hat ;  the  bandage  about  the  wound  broke  and  dropped,  and 
Barto  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  murmuring :  "  What's 
come  to  me  that  I  lose  my  temper  with  a  boy — an  animal  ?  " 
The  excitement  all  over  the  triangular  space  was  hushed 
by  an  imperious  guttural  shout  that  scattered  the  groups. 
Two  Austrian  officers,  followed  by  military  servants,  rode 
side  by  side.  Dust  had  whitened  their  mustachios,  and  the 
heat  had  laid  a  brown-red  varnish  on  their  faces.  Way  was 
made  for  them,  while  Barto  stood  smoothing  his  forehead 
and  staring  at  Checco. 

"  I  see  the  very  man  !  "  cried  one  of  the  officers  quickly. 
*'  Weisspriess,  there's  the  rascal  who  headed  the  attack  ou 
me  in  Verona  the  other  day.     It's  the  same  !  " 

"  Himmel !  "  retui'ned  his  companion,  scrutinizing  the 
sword-cut,  "  if  that's  your  work  on  his  head,  you  did  it  right 
well,  my  Pierson !  He  is  very  neatly  scored,  indeed.  A 
clean  stroke,  manifestly  !  " 

"  But  here  when  I  left  Milan  !  at  Verona  when  I  entered 
the  North-west  gate  there ;  and  the  first  man  I  see  as  I  come 
back  is  this  very  brute.  He  dogs  me  everywhere !  By  the 
way,  there  may  be  two  of  them." 

Lieutenant  Pierson  leaned  over  his  horse's  neck,  and 
looked  narrowly  at  the  man  Barto  Rizzo.  He  himself  was 
eyed  as  in  retort,  and  with  yet  greater  intentness.  At  first 
Barto's  hand  was  sweeping  the  air  within  a  finger's  length 
of  his  foi-ehcad,  like  one  who  fought  a  giddiness  for  steady 
siglit.  The  mist  upon  his  brain  dispersing  under  the  gaze 
of  his  enemy,  his  eyeballs  fixed,  and  he  became  a  curious 
picture  of  passive  rualice,  his  eyes  seeming  to  say :  "  It  is 
enough  for  me  to  know  your  features,  and  I  know  them." 
Such  a  look  from  a  civilian  is  exasperating :  it  was  scarceljr 
to  be  endured  from  an  Italian  of  the  plebs. 

"  Yoa  appear  to  mc  to  want  more,"  said  the  lieutenant 
audibly  to  himself ;  and  he  repeated  words  to  the  same  effect 
to  his  companion,  in  bad  German. 

a  2 


84  VITTORIA. 

"  Eh  ?  You  would  promote  him  to  another  epaulette  P  " 
laughed  Captain  Weissprioss.  "  Come  off.  Orders  are  direct 
against  it.  And  we're  in  Milan — not  like  being  in  Verona ! 
And  my  good  fellow  !  remember  your  bet ;  the  dozen  of  iced 
Riidesheimer.  I  want  to  drink  my  share,  and  dream  I'm 
quartered  in  Mainz — the  only  place  for  an  Austrian  when  he 
quits  Vienna.     Come." 

"  No  ;  but  if  this  is  the  villain  who  attacked  me,  and  tore 
my  coat  from  my  back,"  cried  Wilfrid,  screwing  in  his 
saddle. 

"And  took  your  letter — took  your  letter;  a  particular 
letter;  we  Lave  heard  of  it,"  said  Weisspriess. 

The  lieutenant  exclaimed  that  he  should  overhaul  and 
examine  the  man,  and  see  whether  he  thought  fit  to  give  him 
into  custody.     Weisspriess  laid  hand  on  his  bridle. 

"  Take  my  advice,  and  don't  provoke  a  disturbance  in  the 
streets.  The  truth  is,  you  Englishmen  and  Irishmen  get  us 
a  bad  name  among  these  natives.  If  this  is  the  man  who 
unhorsed  you  and  maltreated  you,  and  committed  the  rape 
of  the  letter,  I'm  afraid  you  won't  get  satisfaction  out  of 
him,  to  judge  by  his  look.  I'm  really  afraid  not.  Try  it  if 
you  like.  In  any  case,  if  you  halt,  I  am  compelled  to  quit 
your  society,  which  is  sometimes  infinitely  diverting.  Let 
me  remind  you  that  you  bear  despatches.  The  other  day 
they  were  verbal  ones  ;  you  are  now  carrying  paper." 

"  Are  you  anxious  to  teach  me  my  duty,  Captain  Weiss- 
priess  .'' 

"  If  you  don't  know  it.  I  said  I  would  '  remind  you.'  I 
can  also  teach  you,  if  you  need  it." 

"  And  I  can  pay  you  for  the  instruction,  whenever  you  are 
disposed  to  receive  payment." 

"  Settle  your  outstanding  claims,  my  good  Pierson  !  " 

"  When  I  have  fought  Jenna  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  you're  a  Prussian — a  Prussian  !  "  Captain  Weiss- 
priess laughed.  "A  Prussian,  I  mean,  in  your  gross  way  of 
blurting  out  everything.  I've  marched  and  messed  with 
Prussians — with  oxen." 

"  I  am,  as  you  are  aware,  an  Englishman,  Captain  Weiss- 
priess. I  am  due  to  Lieutenant  Jenna  for  the  present. 
After  that  you  or  any  one  may  command  me." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Weisspriess,  drawing'  out  one  stream 
of  his  moustache.  "  In  the  meantime,  thank  me  for  luring 
you  away  from  the  chances  of  a  street  row." 


THE  pope's  mouth.  85 

Barto  Rizzo  was  left  behind,  and  they  rode  on  to  the 
Duomo.  Glancing  up  at  its  pinnacles,  Weisspriess  said  : 
"  How  splendidly  Flatschmann's  jfigers  would  pick  them  off 
froTu  there,  now,  if  the  dogs  were  giving  trouble  in  this  part 
of  the  city  !  " 

They  entered  upon  a  professional  discussion  of  the  ways 
and  means  of  dealing  with  a  revolutionary  movement  in  tho 
streets  of  a  city  like  Milan,  and  passed  on  to  the  Piazza  La 
Scala.  Weisspriess  stopped  before  the  Play-bills.  "  To- 
morrow's the  fifteenth  of  the  month,"  he  said.  "  Shall  I  tell 
you  a  secret,  Pierson  ?  I  am  to  have  a  private  peep  at  the 
new  prima  donna  this  night.  They  say  she's  charming,  and 
very  pert.  '  I  do  not  interchange  letters  with  Germans.' 
Benlomik  sent  her  a  neat  little  note  to  the  conservatorio — 
he  hadn't  seen  her :  only  heard  of  her,  and  that  was  our 
patriotic  reply  !  She  wants  taming.  I  believe  I  am  called 
upon  for  that  duty.  At  least,  my  friend  Antonio-Pericles, 
who  occasionally  assists  me  with  supplies,  hints  as  much  to 
me.  You're  an  engaged  man,  or,  upon  my  honour,  I 
wouldn't  trust  you ;  but  between  ourselves,  this  Greek — and 
he's  quite  right — is  trying  to  get  her  away  from  the  set  of 
snuffy  vagabonds  who  are  prompting  her  for  mischief,  and 
don't  know  how  to  treat  her." 

While  he  was  speaking  Barto  Rizzo  pushed  roughly 
between  them,  and  with  a  black  brush  painted  the  circle 
about  Vittoria's  name. 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?"  said  Weisspriess. 

"  I  see,"  Wilfrid  retorted,  "  that  you  are  ready  to  meddle 
with  the  reputation  of  any  woman  who  is  likely  to  be  talked 
about.     Don't  do  it  in  my  presence." 

It  was  natural  for  Captain  Weisspriess  to  express  astonish- 
ment at  this  outburst,  and  the  accompanying  quiver  of 
Wilfrid's  lip. 

"  Austrian  military  etiquette,  Lieutenant  Pierson,"  ho 
said,  "  precludes  the  suspicion  that  the  officers  of  the 
Imperial  army  are  subject  to  dissension  in  public.  We  con- 
duct these  affairs  upon  a  different  principle.  But  I'll  tell 
you  what.  That  fellow's  behaviour  may  be  construed  as  a 
more  than  common  stretch  of  incivility.  I'll  do  you  a  service. 
I'll  arrest  him,  and  then  you  can  hear  tidings  of  your  precious 
letter.     We'll  have  his  confession  published." 

Weisspriess  drew  his  swoid,  and  commanded  tho  troopers 


86  VITTORIA. 

in  attendance  to  lay  hands  on  Barto;  but  the  troopers 
called,  and  the  officer  found  that  they  were  surrounded. 
Weisspriess  shrugged  dismally.  "  The  brute  must  go,  I 
suppose,"  he  said.  The  situation  was  one  of  those  which 
were  every  now  and  then  occurring  in  the  Lombax'd  towns 
and  cities,  when  a  chance  provocation  created  a  riot  that 
became  a  revolt  or  not,  according  to  the  timidity  of  the 
ruling  powers  or  the  readiness  of  the  disaffected.  The 
extent  and  evident  regulation  of  the  crowd  operated  as  a 
warning  to  the  Imperial  officers.  Weisspriess  sheathed  his 
sword  and  shouted,  "Way,  there  !  "  Way  was  made  for  him; 
but  Wilfrid  lingered  to  scrutinize  the  man  who,  for  an 
unaccountable  reason,  appeared  to  be  his  peculiar  enemy. 
Barto  carelessly  threaded  the  crowd,  and  Wilfrid,  finding  it 
useless  to  get  out  after  him,  cried,  "  Who  is  he  ?  Tell  me  the 
name  of  that  man  ?"  The  question  'drew  a  gi^eat  burst  of 
laughter  around  him,  and  exclamations  of  "  Englishman ! 
Englishman  !"  He  turned  where  there  was  a  clear  way  left 
for  him  in  the  track  of  his  brother  officer. 

Comments  on  the  petty  disturbance  had  been  all  the  while 
passing  at  the  Caiie  La  Scala,  where  sat  Agostino  Balderini, 
with  Count  Medole  and  others,  who,  if  the  order  for  their 
arrest  had  been  issued,  were  as  safe  in  that  place  as  in  their 
own  homes.  Their  policy,  indeed,  was  to  show  themselves 
o]ienly  abroad.  Agostino  was  enjoying  the  smoke  of  paper 
cigarettes,  with  all  prudent  regard  for  the  well-being  of  an 
inflammable  beard.  Perceiving  Wilfrid  going  by,  he  said, 
"An  Englishman!  I  continue  to  hope  much  from  his 
countrymen.  I  have  no  right  to  do  so,  only  they  insist  on 
it.  They  have  promised,  and  more  than  once,  to  sail  a  fleet 
to  our  assistance  across  the  plains  of  Lorabardy,  and  I 
believe  they  will — probably  in  the  watery  epoch  which  is  to 
follow  Metternich.  Behold  my  Carlo  approaching.  The 
heart  of  that  lad  doth  so  boil  the  brain  of  him,  he  can 
scarcely  keep  the  lid  on.  What  is  it  now  ?  Speak,  my 
son." 

Carlo  Ammiani  had  to  communicate  that  he  had  just  seen^ 
a  black  circle  to  Vittoria's   name   on  two  public  playbills. 
His  endeavour  to  ape  a  deliberative  gravity  while  he  told 
the  tale,  roused  Agostino's  humouristic  ire. 

"  Round  her  name  r"'  said  Agostino. 

"Yes  ;  in  every  bill." 


TnE  tope's  mouth.  87 

"  Meaning'  that  she  is  suspected  !" 

"  Meaning  any  damnable  thing  you  lite." 

"  It's  a  device  of  the  enemy." 

Agostino,  glad  of  the  pretext  to  recur  to  his  hahitual 
Inxui-ious  irony,  throw  himself  back,  repeating  "  It's  a  device 
of  the  enemy.  Calculate,  my  son,  that  the  enemy  invariably 
knows  all  you  intend  to  do :  determine  simply  to  astonish 
him  with  what  you  do.  Intentions  have  lungs,  Carlo,  and 
depend  on  the  circumambient  air,  which,  if  not  designedly 
treacherous,  is  communicative.  Deeds,  I  need  not  remark, 
are  a  different  body.  It  has  for  many  generations  been  our 
ItaKan  error  to  imagine  a  positive  blood  relationship — not  to 
say  maternity  itself — existing'  between  intentions  and  deeds. 
Nothing  of  the  sort !  There  is  only  the  intention  of  a  link  to 
nnite  them.  You  perceive  ?  It's  much  to  be  famous  for 
fine  intentions,  so  we  won't  complain.  Indeed,  it's  not  our 
business  to  complain,  but  Posterity's  ;  for  fine  intentions  are 
really  rich  possessions,  but  they  don't  leave  grand  legacies  ; 
tliat  is  all.  They  mean  to  possess  the  future :  they  are 
only  the  voluptuous  sons  of  the  present.  It's  my  belief, 
Carlino,  from  observation,  apprehension,  and  other  gifts  of 
my  senses,  that  our  paternal  government  is  not  unacquainted 
with  our  intention  to  sing  a  song  in  a  certain  opera.  And 
it  may  have  learnt  our  clumsy  method  of  enclosing  names 
publicly,  at  the  bidding  of  a  non-appointed  prosecutor,  so 
to  isolate  or  extinguish  them.  Who  can  say  ?  Oh,  ay ! 
Yes  !  the  machinery  that  can  so  easily  be  made  rickety  is 
to  blame ;  we  admit  that ;  but  if  you  will  have  a  conspiracy 
like  a  Geneva  watch,  you  must  expect  any  slight  interference 
with  the  laws  that  govern  it  to  upset  the  mechanism  alto- 
gether. Ah — a !  look  yonder,  but  not  hastily,  my  Carlo. 
Checco  is  nearing  us,  and  he  knows  that  he  has  fellows  after 
him.  And  if  I  guess  right,  he  has  a  burden  to  deliver  to 
one  of  us." 

Checco  came  along  at  his  usual  pace,  and  it  was  quite 
evident  that  he  fancied  himself  under  espionage.  On  two 
sides  of  the  square  a  suspicious  figure  threaded  its  way  in 
the  line  of  shade  not  far  behind  him.  Checco  passed  tho 
caffe  looking  at  nothing  but  the  huge  hands  he  rubbed  over 
and  over.  The  manifest  agents  of  the  polizia  were  nearing 
when  Checco  ran  back,  and  began  mouthing  as  in  retort  at 
something  that  had  been  spoken  from  the  calfo  as  he  shot 


88  VITTORIA. 

by.  He  made  a  gabbling  appeal  on  either  side,  and 
addressed  the  pair  of  apparent  monehards,  in  what,  if 
intelligible,  should  have  been  the  language  of  earnest 
entreaty.  At  the  first  word  which  the  caffe  was  guilty  of 
uttering,  a  fit  of  exasperation  seized  him,  and  the  excitable 
creature  plucked  at  his  hat  and  sent  it  whirling  across  the 
open-air  tables  right  through  the  doorway.  Then,  with  a 
whine,  he  begged  his  followers  to  get  his  hat  back  for  him. 
They  complied. 

"We  only  called  'Illustrissimo !'"  said  Agostino,  as  one 
of  the  men  returned  from  the  interior  of  the  cafie  hat  in 
hand. 

"  The  Signori  should  have  known  better — it  is  an  idiot," 
the  man  replied.  He  was  a  novice  :  in  daring  to  rebuke  he 
betrayed  his  ofiice. 

Checco  snatched  his  hat  from  his  attentive  friend  grinning, 
and  was  away  in  a  flash.  Thereupon  the  caffe  laughed,  and 
laughed  with  an  abashing  vehemence  that  disconcerted  the 
spies.  They  wavered  in  their  choice  of  following  Checco  or 
not ;  one  went  a  step  forward,  one  pulled  back  ;  the  loiterer 
hurried  to  rejoin  his  comrade,  who  was  now  for  a  retrograde 
movement,  and  standing  together  they  swayed  like  two  im- 
perfectly jolly  fellows,  or  ballet  bandits,  each  plucking  at 
the  other,  until  at  last  the  maddening  laughter  made  them 
break,  reciprocate  cat-like  hisses  of  abuse,  and  escape  as 
they  best  could — lamentable  figures. 

"  It  says  well  for  Milan  that  the  Tedeschi  can  scrape  up 
nothing  better  £rom  the  gutters  than  rascals  the  like  of 
those  for  their  service,"  quoth  Agostino.  "Eh,  signer 
Conte  ?" 

"  That  enclosure  about  La  Vittoria's  name  on  the  bills  is 
correct,"  said  the  person  addressed,  in  a  low  tone.  Ho 
turned  and  indicated  one  who  followed  from  the  interior  of 
the  caffe. 

"  H  Barto  is  to  be  trusted  she  is  not  safe,"  the  latter 
remarked.  He  produced  a  paper  that  had  been  secreted  in 
Checco's  hat.  Under  the  date  and  the  superscription  of  the 
Pope's  Mouth,  "  La  Vittoeia  "  stood  out  in  the  ominous 
heavily-pencilled  ring :  the  initials  of  Barto  Rizzo  were  in 
a  corner.     Agostino  began  smoothing  his  beard. 

"  He  has  discovered  that  she  is  not  trustworthy,"  said 
Count  Medole,  a  young  man  of  a  premature  gravity  and 


THE  pope's  mouth.  89 

partial  balrlness,  who  spoke  habitually  with  a  forefinger 
pressed  flat  on  his  long  pointed  chin. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Count  Medole,  that  you  attach 
importance  to  a  communication  o£  this  sort  P"  said  Carlo, 
forcing  an  amazement  to  conceal  his  anger. 

"  I  do,  Count  Ammiani,"  returned  the  patrician  con- 
Bpirator. 

"  You  really  listen  to  a  man  you  despise  ?" 

"  I  do  not  despise  him,  my  friend." 

"  Tou  cannot  surely  tell  us  that  you  allow  such  a  man,  on 
his  sole  authority,  to  blacken  the  character  of  the  signorina  ?" 

"  I  believe  that  he  has  not." 

"  Believe  ?  trust  him  ?  Then  we  are  all  in  his  hands. 
What  can  you  mean  ?  Come  to  the  signorina  herself  in- 
stantly. Agostino,  you  now  conduct  Count  Medole  to  her, 
and  save  him  from  the  shame  of  subscribing  to  the  mon- 
strous calumny.  I  beg  you  to  go  with  our  Agostino,  Count 
Medole.  It  is  time  for  you — I  honour  you  for  the  part  you 
have  taken ;  but  it  is  tirue  to  act  according  to  your  own 
better  judgement." 

Count  Medole  bowed. 

"  The  filthy  rat !"  cried  Ammiani,  panting  to  let  out  his 
wrath. 

"  A  serviceable  dog,"  Agostino  remarked  corrcctingly. 
*'  Keep  true  to  the  form  of  animal,  Carlo.  He  has  done  good 
service  in  his  time." 

"  Tou  listen  to  the  man  ?"  Carlo  said,  now  thoroughly 
amazed. 

"  An  indiscretion  is  possible  to  woman,  my  lad.  She  may 
have  been  indiscreet  in  some  way.  I  am  compelled  to  admit 
the  existence  of  possibilities." 

"  Of  all  men,  you,  Agostino !  You  call  her  daughter,  and 
profess  to  love  her." 

"  You  forget,"  said  Agostino  sharply.  "  The  question 
concerns  the  countiy,  not  the  girl."  He  added  in  an  undei-- 
breath,  "  I  think  you  are  professing  that  you  love  her  a  little 
too  strongly,  and  scarce  give  her  much  help  as  an  advocate. 
The  matter  must  be  looked  into.  If  Barto  shall  be  found  to 
have  acted  without  just  grounds,  I  am  certain  that  Count 
Medole  " — he  turned  suavely  to  the  nobleman — "will  with- 
draw confic[ence  from  him ;  and  that  will  be  equivalent  to  a 


90  VITTORIA. 

rope's-end  for  Barto.     We  shall  see  him  to-night  at  your 
house  ?" 

"  He  will  be  there,"  Medole  said, 

"  But  the  hanu's  done  ;  the  mischief's  done  !  And  what's 
to  follow  if  you  shall  choose  to  consider  this  vile  idiot  justi- 
fied ?"  asked  Ammiani. 

"  She  sin^,  and  there  is  no  rising',"  said  Medole. 
"  She   is   detached   from   the   patriotic   battery,   for   the 
moment :  it  will  be  better  for  her  not  to  sing  at  all,"  said 
Agostino.     "  In  fact,   Barto  has  merely  given  us  warning 
that — and  things  look  like  it — the  Fifteenth  is  likely  to  be 
an  Austrian  feast-day.     Your  arm,  my  son.     We  will  join 
you  to-night,  my  dear  Count.     Now,  Carlo,  I  was  observing, 
it  appears  to  me  that  the  Austrians  are  not  going  to  be  sur- 
prised by  us,  and  it  aifords  me  exquisite  comfort.     Fellows 
prepared  are  never  more  than  prepared  for   one  day  and 
another  day  ;  and  they  are  sure  to  be  in  a  state  of  lax  pre- 
paration after  a  first  and  second  disappointment.     On  the 
contrary,  fellows  surprised  " — Agostino  had  recovered  his  old 
smile  again — "  fellows  surprised  may  be  expected  to  make 
use  of  the   inspirations   pertaining   to  genius.      Don't  you 
see  ?" 

"  Oh,  cruel !  I  am  sick  of  you  all  1"  Cai'lo  exclaimed. 
"  Look  at  her ;  think  of  her,  with  her  pure  dream  of  Italy 
and  her  noble  devotion.  And  you  permit  a  doubt  to  be  cast 
on  her !" 

"  JSTow,  is  it  not  true  that  you  have  an  idea  of  the  country 
not  being  worthy  of  her  ?"  said  Agostino,  slyly.  "  The  Chief, 
I  fancy,  did  not  take  certain  facts  into  his  calculation  when 
he  pleaded  that  the  conspiratrix  was  the  sum  and  completion 
of  the  conspirator.  You  will  come  to  Medole's  to-night. 
Carlo.  You  need  not  be  too  sweet  to  him,  but  beware  of 
explosiveness.  I,  a  Republican,  am  nevertheless  a  practical 
exponent  of  the  sacrifices  necessary  to  unity.  I  accept  the 
local  leadership  of  Medole — on  whom  I  can  never  look  with- 
out thinking  of  an  unfeathered  pie;  and  I  submit  to  be 
assisted  by  the  man  Barto  Rizzo.  Do  thou  likewise,  my 
son.  Let  your  enamoured  sensations  follow  that  duty,  and 
with  a  breezy  space  between.  A  conspiracy  is  an  epitome 
of  humanity,  with  a  boiling  power  beneath  it.  You're  no 
more  than  a  bit  of  mechanism — happy  if  it  goes  at  all !" 
Agostino  said  that  he  would  pay  a  visit  to  Vittoria  in  the 


LAURA  PIAVENI.  91 

evening.  Ammiani  had  determined  to  hunt  out  Barto  Rizzo 
and  the  heads  of  the  Clubs  before  he  saw  her.  It  was  a 
relief  to  him  to  behold  in  the  Piazza  the  Englishman  who 
had  exclianged  cards  with  him  on  the  Motterone.  Captain 
Gambier  advanced  upon  a  ceremonious  bow,  saying  frankly, 
in  a  more  colloquial  French  than  he  had  employed  at  their 
first  interview,  that  he  had  to  apologize  for  his  conduct,  and 
to  request  monsieur's  excuse.  "  If,"  he  pursued,  "  that  lady 
is  the  person  whom  I  knew  formerly  in  England  as  Made- 
moiselle Belloni,  and  is  now  known  as  Mademoiselle  Vittoria 
Campa,  may  I  beg  you  to  inform  her  that,  according  to  what 
I  have  heard,  she  is  likely  to  be  in  some  danger  to-morrow  ?" 
What  the  exact  nature  of  the  danger  was,  Captain  Gambier 
could  not  say. 

Ammiani  replied  :  "  She  is  in  need  of  all  her  friends,"  and 
took  the  pressui-e  of  the  Englishman's  hand,  who  would  fain 
have  asked  more  but  for  the  stately  courtesy  of  the  Italian's 
withdrawing  salute.  Ammiani  could  no  longer  doubt  that 
Vittoria's  implication  in  the  conspiracy  was  known. 


CHAPTER  XL 

LAURA  PIAVENI. 

After  dark  on  the  same  day  antecedent  to  the  outbreak, 
Vittoria,  with  her  faithful  Beppo  at  her  heels,  left  her 
mother  to  run  and  pass  one  comforting  hour  in  the  society  of 
the  signora  Laura  Piaveni  and  her  children. 

There  were  two  daughters  of  a  parasitical  Italian  noble- 
man, of  whom  one  had  married  the  patriot  Giacomo  Piaveni, 
and  one  an  Austrian  diplomatist,  the  Commendatore  Graf 
von  Lenkenstein.  Count  Scrabiglione  was  traditionally 
])arasitical.  His  ancestors  all  had  moved  in  Courts.  The 
children  of  the  House  had  illustrious  sponsors.  The  House 
itself  was  a  symbolical  sunflower  constantly  turning  toward 
Royalty.  Great  excuses  are  to  be  made  for  this,  the  last 
male  descendant,  whose  father  in  his  youth  had  been  an 
Imperial  y)age,  and  who  had  been  nursed  in  the  conception 
that   Italy   (or  at   least    Loml)ai'dy)    was   a   natural    liet  of 


92  VITTORIA. 

Austria,  allied  by  instinct  and  by  interest  to  the  holders 
of  the  Alps.  Count  Serabiglione  mixed  little  with  his 
countrymen, — the  statement  might  be  inversed, — but  when, 
perchance,  he  was  among  them,  he  talked  willingly  of  the 
Tedeschi,  and  voluntarily  declared  them  to  be  gross,  obsti- 
nate, offensive — bears,  in  short.  At  such  times  he  would 
intimate  in  any  cordial  ear  that  the  serpent  was  probably 
a  match  for  the  bear  in  a  game  of  skill,  and  that  the  wisdom  of 
the  serpent  was  shown  in  his  selection  of  the  bear  as  his  master, 
since,  by  the  ordination  of  circumstances,  master  he  must 
have.  The  count  would  speak  pityingly  of  the  poor  depraved 
intellects  which  admitted  the  possibility  of  a  coming  King- 
dom of  Italy  united  :  the  lunatics  who  preached  of  it  he 
considered  a  sort  of  self-elected  targets  for  appointed  files  of 
Tyrolese  jagers.  But  he  was  vindictive  against  him  whom 
lie  called  the  professional  doctrinaire,  and  he  had  vile  names 
for  the  man.  Acknowledging  that  Italy  mourned  her 
present  woes,  he  charged  this  man  with  the  crime  of 
originating  them  : — and  why  P  what  was  his  object  ?  He 
was,  the  count  declared  in  answer,  a  born  intriguer,  a  lover 
of  blood,  mad  for  the  smell  of  it! — an  Old  Man  of  the 
Mountain ;  a  sheaf  of  assassins ;  and  more — the  curse  of 
Italy !  There  should  be  extradition  treaties  all  over  the 
world  to  bring  this  arch-conspirator  to  justice.  The  door  of 
his  conscience  had  been  knocked  at  by  a  thousand  bleeding 
ghosts,  and  nothing  had  opened  to  them.  What  was  Italy 
in  his  eyes  ?  A  chess-board  ;  and  Italians  were  the  chess- 
men to  this  cold  player  with  live  flesh.  England  nourished 
the  wretch,  that  she  might  undermine  the  peace  of  the  Con- 
tinent. Count  Serabiglione  would  work  himself  up  in  the 
climax  of  denunciation,  and  then  look  abroad  frankly  as  one 
whose  spirit  had  been  relieved.  He  hated  bad  men  ;  and  it 
was  besides  necessary  for  him  to  denounce  somebody,  and 
get  relief  of  some  kind.  Italians  edged  away  from  him.  He 
was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  no  country.  The  detested 
title  '  Young  Italy '  hurried  him  into  fits  of  wrath.  "  I  am," 
he  said,  "  one  of  the  Old  Italians,  if  a  distinction  is  to  be 
made."  He  assured  his  listeners  that  he  was  for  his  com- 
mune, his  district,  and  aired  his  old-Italian  prejudices 
delightedly;  clapping  his  hands  to  the  quarrels  of  Milan 
and  Brescia ;  Florence  and  Siena — haply  the  feuds  of  vil- 
lages— and  the  common  North-Italian  jealousy  of  the  chief 


LAURA  PIAVENI.  93 

city.  He  had  immeroiis  capital  tales  to  toll  of  village  feuds, 
their  date  and  origin,  the  stupid  eifort  to  heal  them,  and  the 
wider  consequent  split ;  saying,  "  We  have,  all  Italians,  the 
tenacity,  the  unforgiveness,  the  fervent  blood  of  pure 
Hebrews  ;  and  a  little  more  gaiety,  perhaps  ;  together  with 
a  love  of  fair  things.  We  can  outlive  tea  races  of  con- 
querors." 

In  this  fashion  he  philosophized,  or  forced  a.  kind  of 
philosophy.  But  he  had  married  his  daughter  to  an  Austrian, 
which  was  what  his  countrymen  could  not  overlook,  and  they 
made  him  feel  it.  Little  by  little,  half  acquiescing,  half 
protesting,  and  gradually  denationalized,  the  count  was 
edged  out  of  Italian  society,  save  of  the  parasitical  class, 
which  he  very  much  despised.  He  was  not  a  happy  man. 
Success  at  the  Imperial  Court  might  have  comforted  him ; 
but  a  remorseless  sensitiveness  of  his  nature  tripped  his 
steps.  Bitter  laughter  rang  throughout  Lombardy  when,  in 
spite  of  his  eiforts  to  save  his  daughter's  husband,  Giacomo 
Piaveni  suffered  death.  No  harder  blow  had  ever  befallen 
the  count :  it  was  as  good  as  a  public  proclamation  that  he 
possessed  small  influence.  To  have  bent  the  knee  was  not 
afflicting  to  this  nobleman's  conscience  :  but  it  was  an 
anguish  to  think  of  having  bent  the  knee  for  nothing. 

Giacomo  Piaveni  was  a  noble  Italian  of  the  young  blood, 
son  of  a  General  loved  by  Eugene.  In  him  the  loss  of  Italy 
was  deplorable.  He  perished  by  treachery  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three  years.  So  splendid  was  this  youth  in  appear- 
ance, of  so  sweet  a  manner  with  women,  and  altogether  so 
gentle  and  gallant,  that  it  was  a  widowhood  for  women  to 
have  known  him :  and  at  his  death  the  hearts  of  two 
women  who  had  loved  him  in  rivalry  became  bound  by  a 
sacred  tie  of  friendship.  He,  though  not  of  distinguished 
birth,  had  the  choice  of  an  almost  royal  alliance  in  the  first 
blush  of  his  manhood.  He  refused  his  chance,  pleading  in 
excuse  to  Count  Serabiglione,  that  he  was  in  love  with  that 
nobleman's  daughter,  Laura ;  which  it  flattered  the  count 
to  hear,  but  he  had  ever  after  a  contempt  for  the  young 
man's  discretion,  and  was  observed  to  shrug,  with  the  smooth 
sorrowfulness  of  one  who  has  been  a  prophet,  on  the  day 
when  Giacomo  was  shot,  l^he  larger  estates  of  the  Piaveni 
family,  then  in  Giacomo's  hands,  were  in  a  famous  cheese- 
Jiiaking  district,  producing  a  delicious  cheese: — "white  aa 


94 


VITTOEIA. 


lambkins  1"  t"he  count  would  ejaculate  most  dolefully ;  and 
in  a  rapture  of  admiration,  "  You  would  say,  a  marble 
quarry  when  you  cut  into  it."  The  theme  was  afflicting,  for 
all  the  estates  of  Griacomo  were  for  the  time  forfeit,  and  the 
pleasant  agitation  produced  among  his  senses  by  the  men- 
tion of  the  cheese  reminded  him  at  the  same  instant  that  he 
had  to  support  a  widow  with  two  children.  The  signora 
Piaveni  lived  in  Milan,  and  the  count  her  father  visited  her 
twice  during  the  summer  months,  and  wrote  to  her  fi-om  his 
fitful  Winter  residences  in  various  capital  cities,  to  report 
progress  in  the  settled  scheme  for  the  recovery  of  Giacomo'a 
property,  as  well  for  his  widow  as  for  the  heirs  of  his  body. 
"  It  is  a  duty,"  Count  Serabiglione  said  emphatically.  "  My 
daughter  can  entertain  no  proposal  until  her  children  are 
duly  established ;  or  would  she,  who  is  young  and  lovely 
and  archly  capricious,  continue  to  decline  the  very  best 
oiiers  of  the  Milanese  nobility,  and  live  on  one  flat  in  an  old 
quarter  of  the  city,  instead  of  in  a  bright  and  handsome 
street,  rausical  with  equipages,  and  full  of  the  shows  of  life  ?" 
In  conjunction  with  certain  friends  of  the  signora,  the  count 
worked  diligently  for  the  immediate  restitution  of  the 
estates.  He  was  ably  seconded  by  the  young  princess  of 
Schyll-Weilingen, — by  marriage  countess  of  Fohrendorf, 
duchess  of  Graiitli,  in  central  Germany,  by  which  title  she 
passed, — an  Austrian  princess  ;  she  who  had  loved  Giacomo, 
and  would  have  given  all  for  him,  and  who  now  loved  his 
widow.  The  extreme  and  painful  difficulty  was  that  the 
signora  Piaveni  made  no  concealment  of  her  abhorrence  of 
the  House  of  Austria,  and  hatred  of  Austrian  rule  in  Italy. 
The  spirit  of  her  dead  husband  had  come  to  her  from  the 
grave,  and  warmed  a  frame  previously  indifferent  to  any- 
thing save  his  personal  merits.  It  had  been  covertly  com- 
municated to  her  that  if  she  performed  due  submission  to 
the  authorities,  and  lived  for  six  months  in  good  legal,  that 
is  to  say,  non-patriotic  odour,  she  might  hope  to  have  the 
estates.  The  duchess  had  obtained  this  mercy  for  her,  and 
it  was  much  ;  for  Giacomo's  scheme  of  revolt  had  been  con- 
ceived with  a  subtlety  of  genius,  and  contrived  on  a  scale 
sufficient  to  incense  any  despotic  lord  of  such  a  glorious 
milch-cow  as  Lombardy.  Unhappily  the  signora  was  more 
inspired  by  the  remembrance  of  her  husband  than  by  con- 
sideration for  her  children.     She  received  disaffected  per. 


LAURA  PIAVENI.  95 

sons :  she  subscribed  her  money  ostentatiously  for  notoriously 
patriotic  pui-poses ;  and  she  who,  in  her  father's  Como  villa, 
had  been  a  shy  speechless  girl,  nothing  more  than  beautiful, 
had  become  celebrated  for  her  public  letters,  and  the  ardour 
of  declamation  against  the  foreigner  which  characterized  her 
style.  In  the  face  of  such  facts,  the  estates  continued  to  bo 
withheld  from  her  governance.  Austi'ia  could  do  that :  she 
could  wreak  her  spite  against  the  woman,  but  she  respected 
her  own  law  even  in  a  conquered  land :  the  estates  were 
not  confiscated,  and  not  absolutely  sequestrated ;  and,  indeed, 
money  coming  from  them  had  been  sent  to  her  for  the 
education  of  her  children.  It  lay  in  unopened  official 
envelopes,  piled  one  upon  another,  quarterly  remittances, 
horrible  as  blood  of  slaughter  in  her  sight.  Count  Serabi- 
glione  made  a  point  of  counting  the  packets  always  within 
the  first  five  minutes  of  a  visit  to  his  daughter.  He  said 
nothing,  but  was  careful  to  see  to  the  proper  working  of  the 
lock  of  the  cupboard  where  the  precious  deposits  were  kept, 
and  sometimes  in  forgetfulness  he  carried  off  the  key. 
When  his  daughter  reclaimed  it,  she  observed,  "  Pray 
believe  me  quite  as  anxious  as  yourself  to  preserve  these 
documents."  And  the  count  answered,  "  They  represent 
the  estates,  and  are  of  legal  value,  though  the  amount  is 
small.  They  represent  your  protest,  and  the  admission  of 
your  claim.     They  are  priceless." 

In  some  degree,  also,  they  compensated  him  for  the 
expense  he  was  put  to  in  providing  for  his  daughter's  sub- 
sistence and  that  of  her  children.  For  there,  at  all  events, 
visible  before  his  eyes,  was  the  value  of  the  money,  if  not  the 
money  expended.  He  remonstrated  with  Laura  for  leaving 
it  more  than  necessarily  exposed.  She  replied,  "  My  people 
know  what  that  money  means !"  implying,  of  course,  that 
no  one  in  her  house  would  consequently  touch  it.  Yet  it 
was  reserved  for  the  count  to  find  it  gone. 

The  discovery  was  made  by  the  astounded  nobleman  on 
the  day  preceding  Vittoria's  appearance  at  La  Scala.  His 
daugliter  being  absent,  he  had  visited  the  cupboard  merely 
to  satisfy  an  habitual  curiosity.  The  cupboard  was  open, 
and  had  evidently  been  ransacked.  He  rang  up  the  domestics, 
and  would  have  charged  them  all  with  having  done  violence 
to  the  key,  but  that  on  reflection  he  considered  this  to  be  a 
way  of  binding  faggots  together,  and  he  resolved  to  tako 


96  VITTOEIA. 

tliem  one  by  one,  like  the  threading  Jesuit  that  he  was,  and 
so  get  a  Judas.  Laura's  return  saved  him  from  much  exer- 
cise of  his  peculiar  skill.  She,  with  a  cool  "Ebbene !"  asked 
hira  how  long  he  had  expected  the  money  to  remain  there. 
Upon  which,  em-aged,  he  accused  her  of  devoting  the  money 
to  the  accursed  patriotic  cause.  And  here  they  came  to  a 
curious  open  division. 

"  Be  content,  my  father,"  she  said ;  "  the  money  is  my 
husband's,  and  is  expended  on  his  behalf." 

"  You  waste  it  among  the  people  who  were  the  cause  of  his 
ruin  !"  her  father  retorted, 

"  You  presume  me  to  have  returned  it  to  the  Government, 
possibly  ?" 

"  I  charge  you  with  tossing  it  to  your  so-called  patriots." 

"  Sir,  if  I  have  done  that,  I  have  done  well." 

"  Hear  her  !"  cried  the  count  to  the  attentive  ceiling ;  and 
addressing  her  with  an  ironical  "  madame,"  he  begged  per- 
mission to  inquire  of  her  whether  haply  she  might  be  the 
person  in  the  pay  of  Revolutionists  who  was  about  to  appear 
at  La  Scala,  under  the  name  of  the  signorina  Vittoria.  "  For 
you  are  getting  dramatic  in  your  pose,  my  Laura,"  he  added, 
familiarizing  the  colder  tone  of  his  irony.  "  You  are  begin- 
ning to  stand  easily  in  attitudes  of  defiance  to  your  own 
father." 

"  That  I  may  practise  how  to  provoke  a  paternal  Govern- 
ment, you  mean,"  she  rejoined,  and  was  quite  a  match  for  him 
in  dialectics. 

The  count  chanced  to  allude  further  to  the  signorina 
Vittoria. 

"  Do  you  know  much  of  that  lady  ?"  she  asked. 

"  As  much  as  is  known,"  said  he. 

They  looked  at  one  another;  the  count  thinking,  "I  gave 
to  this  girl  an  excess  of  brains,  in  my  folly !" 

Compelled  to  drop  his  eyes,  and  vexed  by  the  tacit  defeat, 
he  pursued,  "  You  expect  great  things  from  her  ?" 

"  Great,"  said  his  daughter. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  murmured  acquiescingly,  while  sounding 
within  himself  for  the  pai-t  to  play.  "  Well — yes  !  she  may 
do  what  you  expect." 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  her  capacity,"  said  his 
daughter,  in  a  tone  of  such  perfect  conviction  that  the  count 
was  immediately  and  irresistibly  tempted  to  play  the  part  of 


LAURA  PIAVENI.  97 

sagacions,  kindly,  tolerant  but  foreseeing  father ;  and  in  this 
becoming  cliaracter  he  exposed  the  risks  her  party  ran  in 
trusting  anything  of  weight  to  a  woman.  Not  that  he  decried 
women.  Out  of  their  sphere  he  did  not  trust  them,  and  he 
simply  objected  to  them  when  out  of  their  sphere  :  the  last 
four  words  being  uttered  staccato. 

"  But  we  trust  her  to  do  what  she  has  undertaken  to  do," 
said  Laura. 

The  count  brightened  prodigiously  from  his  suspicion  to  a 
certainty  ;  and  as  he  was  still  smiling  at  the  egregious  trap 
his  clever  but  unskilled  daughter  had  fallen  into,  he  found 
himself  listening  incredulously  to  her  plain  additional  sen- 
tence : — 

"  She  has  easy  command  of  three  octaves." 

By  which  the  allusion  was  transformed  from  politics  to 
Art.  Had  Laura  reserved  this  cunning  turn  a  little  fui-ther, 
yielding  to  the  natural  temptation  to  increase  the  shock  of 
the  antithetical  battery,  she  would  have  betrayed  herself : 
but  it  came  at  the  right  moment :  the  count  gave  up  his 
arms.  He  told  her  that  this  signorina  Vittoria  was  suspected. 
"  Whom  will  they  not  suspect !"  interjected  Laura.  He 
assui-ed  her  that  if  a  conspiracy  had  ripened  it  must  fail. 
She  was  to  believe  that  he  abhorred  the  part  of  a  spy  or 
informer,  but  he  was  bound,  since  she  was  reckless,  to  watch 
over  his  daughter;  and  also  bound,  that  he  might  be  of 
service  to  her,  to  earn  by  service  to  others  as  much  power  as 
he  could  reasonably  hope  to  obtain.  Laura  signified  that  he 
argued  excellently  well.  In  a  fit  of  unjustified  doubt  of  her 
sincerity,  he  complained,  with  a  querulous  snap  : — 

"  You  have  your  own  ideas ;  you  have  your  own  ideas. 
You  think  me  this  and  that.     A  man  must  be  employed." 

"  And  this  is  to  account  for  your  occupation  ?"  she 
remarked. 

"  Employed,  I  say !"  the  count  reiterated  fretfully.  He 
was  unmasking  to  no  purpose,  and  felt  himself  as  on  a  slope, 
having  given  his  adversary  vantage. 

"  So  that  there  is  no  choice  for  you,  do  you  mean  ?" 

The  count  set  up  a  staggering  affirmative,  but  knocked  it 
ovci-  with  its  natuT-al  oiioiuy  as  soon  as  his  daughter  had 
said,  "  Not  being  for  Italy,  you  must  necessarily  be  against 
Ijyr : — I  admit  that  to  be  the  position  !" 

"No  I"  he  cri(;d;  "no:  there  is  no  ((iiostion  of  'for'  or 

K 


98  VITTOEIA. 

*  against,'  as  you  are  aware.  '  Italy,  and  not  Revolution :' 
that  is  my  motto." 

"  Or,  in  other  words,  '  The  Impossible,'  "  said  Laura.  "A 
perfect  motto!" 

Again  the  count  looked  at  her,  with  the  remorseful 
thought :  "  I  certainly  gave  you  too  much  brains." 

He  smiled :  "  If  you  could  only  believe  it  not  impos- 
sible !' 

"  Do  you  really  imagine  that  '  Italy  without  Revolution  ' 
does  not  mean  *  Austria '  ?"  she  inquired. 

She  had  discovered  how  much  he,  and  therefore  his  party, 
suspected,  and  now  she  had  reasons  for  wishing  him  away. 
Not  daring  to  show  symptoms  of  restlessness,  she  ofEered 
him  the  chance  of  recovering  himself  on  the  crutches  of  an 
explanation.  He  accepted  the  assistance,  praising  his  wits 
for  their  sprightly  divination,  and  went  through  a  long- 
winded  statement  of  his  views  for  the  welfare  of  Italy,  quot- 
ing his  favourite  Berni  frequently,  and  forcing  the  occasion 
for  that  jolly  poet.  Laura  gave  quiet  attention  to  all,  and 
when  he  was  exhausted  at  the  close,  said  meditatively,  "Yes. 
Well ;  you  are  older.  It  may  seem  to  you  that  I  shall  think 
as  you  do  when  I  have  had  a  similar,  or  the  same,  length  of 
experience." 

This  provoking  reply  caused  her  father  to  jump  up  from 
his  chair  and  spin  round  for  his  hat.  She  rose  to  speed  him 
forth. 

"  It  may  seem  to  me !"  he  kept  muttering.  "  It  may  seem 
to  me  that  when  a  daughter  gets  married — addio! — she  is 
nothing  but  her  husband." 

"  Ay  !  ay  !  if  it  might  be  so  !"  the  signora  wailed  out. 

The  count  hated  tears,  considering  them  a  clog  to  all 
useful  machinery.  He  was  departing,  when  through  the 
open  window  a  noise  of  scuffling  in  the  street  below  arrested 
him. 

"  Has  it  commcQced  ?"  he  said,  starting. 

*'  What  ?"  asked  the  signora,  coolly ;  and  made  hiru  pause. 

"But — but — but!"  he  answered,  and  had  the  grace  to 
E^pare  her  ears.  The  thought  in  him  was  :  "  But  that  I  had 
some  faith  in  m.y  wife,  and  don't  admire  the  devil  sufficiently, 
I  would  accuse  him  point-blank,  for,  by  Bacchus !  you  are  as 
ulever  as  he." 

It  is  a  point  in  the  education  of  parents  that  they  should 


LAURA  PIAVENI.  99 

learn  to  apprehend  humbly  the  compliment  of  being  out- 
witted by  their  own  offspring. 

Count  Serabiglione  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  saw 
that  his  horses  were  safe  and  the  coachman  handy.  There 
were  two  separate  engagements  going  on  between  angry 
twisting  couples. 

"  Is  there  a  habitable  town  in  Italy  ?"  the  count  exclaimed 
frenziedly.  First  he  called  to  his  coachman  to  drive  away, 
next  to  wait  as  if  nailed  to  the  spot.  He  cursed  the  revo- 
lutionary spirit  as  the  mother  of  vices.  While  he  was  gazing 
at  the  fray,  the  door  behind  him  opened,  as  he  knew  by  the 
rush  of  cool  air  which  struck  his  temples.  He  fancied  that 
his  daughter  was  hurrying  off  in  obedience  to  a  signal,  and 
turned  upon  her  just  as  Laura  was  motioning  to  a  female 
figure  in  the  doorway  to  retire. 

"  Who  is  this  ?"  said  the  count. 

A  veil  was  over  the  strange  lady's  head.  She  was  excited, 
and  breathed  quickly.  The  count  brought  forward  a  chair 
to  her,  and  put  on  his  best  court  manner.  Laura  caressed 
her,  whispering,  ere  she  replied :  "  The  signorina  Vittoria 
Romana  ! — Biancolla ! — Benarriva !  "  and  numerous  other 
names  of  inventive  endearment.  But  the  count  was  too 
sharp  to  be  thrown  off  the  scent.  "Aha!"  he  said,  "do  I 
see  her  one  evening  before  the  term  appointed  ?"  and  bowed 
profoundly.     "  The  signorina  Vittoria  I" 

She  threw  up  her  veil. 

"  Success  is  certain,"  he  remarked  and  applauded,  holding 
one  hand  as  a  snuff-box  for  the  fingers  of  the  other  to  tap 
on. 

"  Signer  Conte,  you  must  not  praise  me  before  you  have 
heard  me." 

"  To  have  seen  you  !" 

"  The  voice  has  a  wider  dominion,  signer  Conte." 

"  The  fame  of  the  signorina'sbeauty  mil  soon  be  far  wider. 
Was  Venus  a  cantatrice  ?" 

She  blushed,  being  unable  to  continue  this  sort  of  Mayfly- 
shooting  dialogue,  but  her  first  charming  readiness  had 
affected  the  proficient  social  gentleman  very  pleasantly,  and 
with  fascinated  eyes  he  hummed  and  buzzed  about  her  like 
a  moth  at  a  lamp.  Suddenly  his  head  dived:  "  Nothing, 
nothing,  signorina,"  ho  said,  brushing  delicately  at  her 
dress;    "I    thought    it    might  be   paint."      Ho   smiled   to 

H  2 


100 


VITTORIA. 


reassure  her,  and  then  he  dived  again,  murnmring:  "It 
must  be  something  sticking  to  the  dress.  Pardon  me." 
With  that  he  went  to  the  bell.  "  I  will  ring  up  my 
daughter's  maid.     Or  Laura — where  is  Laura  ?" 

The  signora  Piaveni  had  walked  to  the  window.  This 
antiquated  fussiness  of  the  dilettante  little  nobleman  was 
sickening  to  her. 

"  Probably  you  expect  to  discover  a  revolutionary  symbol 
in  the  lines  of  the  signorina's  dress,"  she  said. 

"A  revolutionary  symbol! — my  dear!  my  dear!"  The 
count  reproved  his  daughter.  "  Is  not  our  signorina  a  pure 
artist,  accomplishing  easily  three  octaves  ?  aha !  Three  !" 
and  he  rubbed  his  hands.  "  But,  three  good  octaves  !"  he 
addressed  Yittoria  seriously  and  admonishingly.  "  It  is  a 
fortune  —  millions !  It  is  precisely  the  very  grandest 
heritage  !     It  is  an  army  !" 

"  I  trust  that  it  may  be  !"  said  Vittoria,  with  so  deep  and 
earnest  a  ring  of  her  voice  that  the  count  himself,  malicious 
as  his  ejaculations  had  been,  was  astonished.  At  that 
instant  Laura  cried  from  the  window :  "  These  horses  will 
go  mad." 

The  exclamation  had  the  desired  effect. 

"  Eh  ? — pardon  me,  signorina,"  said  the  count,  moving 
half-way  to  the  window,  and  then  askant  for  his  hat.  The 
clatter  of  the  horses'  hoofs  sent  him  dashing  through  the 
doorway,  at  which  place  his  daughter  stood  with  his  hat 
extended.  He  thanked  and  blessed  her  for  the  kindly  atten- 
tion,  and  in  terror  lest  the  signorina  should  think  evil  of  him 
as  '  one  of  the  generation  of  the  hasty,'  he  said,  "  Were  it 
anything  but  horses  !  anything  l)ut  horses  !  one's  horses  ! — 
ha  !"  The  audible  hoofs  called  him  off.  He  kissed  the  tips 
of  his  fingers,  and  tripped  out. 

The  signora  stepped  rapidly  to  the  window,  and  leaning 
there,  cried  a  word  to  the  coachman,  who  signalled  perfect 
comprehension,  and  immediately  the  count's  horses  were  on 
their  hind-legs,  chafing  and  pulling  to  right  and  left,  and 
the  street  was  tumultuous  with  them.  She  flung  down  the 
window,  seized  Vittoria's  cheeks  in  her  two  hands,  and 
pressed  the  head  upon  her  bosom.  "  Pie  will  not  disturb  us 
again,"  she  said,  in  quite  a  new  tone,  sliding  her  hands  fi-om 
the  cheeks  to  the  shoulders  and  along  the  arms  to  the 
fingers'-ends,  which  they  clutched  lovingly.     "  He  is  of  the 


LAURA  PIAVENI.  101 

old  school,  friend  of  my  heart!  and  besides,  he  has  but  two 
pairs  of  horses,  and  one  he  keeps  in  Vienna.  We  live  in  the 
hope  that  our  masters  will  pay  us  better  !  Tell  me  !  you  are 
in  good  health  ?  All  is  well  with  you  ?  Will  they  have  to 
put  paint  on  her  soft  cheeks  to-morrow  ?  Little,  if  they 
hold  the  colour  as  full  as  now  ?  My  Sandi'a !  amica !  should 
I  have  been  jealous  if  Giacomo  had  known  you  ?  On  my 
soul,  I  cannot  g'uess  !  But,  you  love  what  he  loved.  Ho 
seems  to  live  for  me  when  they  are  talking  of  Italy,  and  you 
send  your  eyes  forward  as  if  you  saw  the  country  free.  God 
help  me !  how  I  have  been  containing  ray  self  for  the  last 
hour  and  a  half  !" 

The  signora  dropped  in  a  seat  and  laughed  a  languid 
laugh. 

"  The  little  ones  ?  I  will  ring  for  them.  Assunta  shall 
bring  them  down  in  their  night-gowns  if  they  are  undressed  ; 
and  we  will  muffle  the  windows,  for  my  little  man  will  bo 
wanting  his  song;  and  did  you  not  promise  him  the  great 
one  which  is  to  raise  Italy — his  mother,  from  the  dead  ?  Do 
you  remember  our  little  fellow's  eyes  as  he  tried  to  see  the 
picture  ?  I  fear  I  force  him  too  much,  and  there's  no  need 
— not  a  bit." 

The  time  was  exciting,  and  the  signora  spoke  excitedly. 
^Messina  and  Reggio  were  in  arms.  South  Italy  had  given 
the  open  signal.  It  was  near  upon  the  hour  of  the  unmask- 
ing of  the  great  Lombard  conspiracy,  and  Vittoria,  standing- 
there,  was  the  beacon-light  of  it.  Her  presence  filled  Laura 
with  transports  of  exultation  ;  and  shy  of  displaying  it,  and 
of  the  theme  itself,  she  let  her  tongue  run  on,  and  satisfied 
herself  by  smoothing  the  hand  of  the  brave  girl  on  her  chin, 
and  plucking  with  little  loving  tugs  at  her  skirts.  In  doing 
this  she  suddenly  gave  a  cry,  as  if  stung. 

"  You  carry  pins,"  she  said.  And  inspecting  the  skirts 
more  closely,  "  You  have  a  careless  maid  in  that  creature 
Giacinta  ;  she  lets  paper  stick  to  your  dress.    What  is  this  ?" 

Vittoria  turned  her  head,  and  gathered  up  her  dress  to 
see. 

"  Pinned  with  the  butterfly  !"  Laura  spoke  under  her 
breath. 

Vittoria  asked  what  it  meant. 

"  Nothing — nothing,"  said  her  friend,  and  rose,  pulling 
her  eagerly  toward  the  lamp. 


102  VITTOEIA. 

A  small  bronze  butterfly  secured  a  square  piece  of  paper 
•with  clipped  corners  to  her  dress.  Two  words  were  written 
on  it  :— 

"  Sei  sospetta." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    BRONZE   BDTTERFLT. 


The  two  women  were  facing  one  another  in  a  painful 
silence  when  Carlo  Ammiani  was  announced  to  them.  He 
entered  with  a  rapid  stride,  and  struck  his  hands  together 
gladly  at  sight  of  Vittoria. 

Laura  met  his  salutation  by  lifting  the  accusing  butterfly 
attached  to  Vittoria's  dress. 

"  Yes ;  I  expected  it,"  he  said,  breathing  quick  from 
recent  exertion.  "  They  are  kind — they  give  her  a  personal 
warning.  Sometimes  the  dagger  heads  the  butterfly.  I  have 
seen  the  mark  on  the  Play-bills  affixed  to  the  signorina's 
name." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?"  said  Laura,  speaking  huskily, 
with  her  head  bent  over  the  bronze  insect.  "  What  can  it 
mean  ?"  she  asked  again,  and  looked  up  to  meet  a  covert 
answer. 

"  Unpin  it."  Vittoria  raised  her  arms  as  if  she  felt  the 
thing  to  be  enveloping  her. 

The  signora  loosened  the  pin  from  its  hold ;  but  dreading 
lest  she  thereby  sacrificed  some  possible  clue  to  the  mystery, 
she  hesitated  in  her  action,  and  sent  an  intolerable  shiver  of 
spite  through  Vittoria's  frame,  at  whom  she  gazed  in  a  cold 
and  cruel  way,  saying,  "  Don't  tremble."  And  again,  "  Is  it 
the  doing  of  that  gnrritrice  magrezza,  whom  you  call  la 
Lazzeruola  ?  Speak.  Can  you  trace  it  to  her  hand  ?  Who 
put  the  plague-mark  upon  you  ?" 

Vittoria  looked  steadily  away  from  her. 

"  It  means  just  this,"  Carlo  interposed ; — "  there  !  now  it's 
off ;  and,  signorina,  I  entreat  you  to  think  nothing  of  it, — it 
means  that  any  one  who  takes  a  chief  part  in  the  game  we 
play,  shall  and  must  provoke  all  fools,  knaves,  and  idiots  to 


THE  BRONZE  BUTTERFLY.  103 

think  and  do  their  worst.  They  can't  imagine  a  pure  devo- 
tion. Yes,  I  see — '  Sei  sospetta.'  They  would  wi'ito  their 
Sei  sospetta  upon  St.  Catherine  in  the  Wheel.  Put  it  out  of 
your  mind.     Pass  it." 

"  But  they  suspect  her ;  and  why  do  they  suspect  her  ?" 
Laura  questioned  vehemently.  "  I  ask,  is  it  a  Conservatorio 
rival,  or  the  brand  of  one  of  the  Clubs  ?  She  has  no 
answer." 

"  Observe."  Carlo  laid  the  paper  under  her  eyes.  Three 
angles  were  clipped,  the  fourth  was  doubled  under.  Ho 
turned  it  back  and  disclosed  the  initials  B.  R.  "  This  also  is 
the  work  of  otir  man-devil,  as  I  thought.  I  begin  to  think 
that  we  shall  be  eternally  thwarted,  until  we  first  clear  our 
Italy  of  its  vermin.  Here  is  a  weazel,  a  snake,  a  tiger  in 
one.  They  call  him  the  Great  Cat.  He  fancies  himself  a 
patriot, — he  is  only  a  conspirator.  I  denounce  him,  but  he 
gets  the  faith  of  people,  our  Agostino  among  them,  I  believe. 
The  energy  of  this  wretch  is  terrific.  He  has  the  vigour  of 
a  fasting  saint.  Myself — I  declare  it  to  you,  signora,  with 
shame,  I  know  what  it  is  to  fear  this  man.  He  has  Satanic 
blood,  and  the  worst  is,  that  the  Chief  trusts  him." 

"  Then,  so  do  I,"  said  Laura. 

"  And  I,"  Vittoria  echoed  her. 

A  sudden  squeeze  beset  her  fingers.  "  And  I  trust  you," 
Laura  said  to  her.  "  But  there  has  been  some  indiscretion. 
My  child,  wait-:  give  no  heed  to  me,  and  have  no  feelings. 
Carlo,  my  friend — my  husband's  boy-brother-in-arms  !  let 
her  teach  you  to  be  generous.  She  must  have  been  indis- 
cieet.  Has  she  friends  among  the  Austrians  ?  I  have  one, 
and  it  is  known,  and  I  am  not  suspected.  But,  has  she  ? 
What  have  you  said  or  done  that  might  cause  them  to  sus- 
pect you  ?     Speak,  Sandra  mia." 

It  was  difficult  for  Vittoria  to  speak  upon  the  theme, 
•which  made  her  appear  as  a  criminal  replying  to  a  charge. 
At  last  she  said,  "  English :  I  have  no  foreign  friends  but 
English.  I  remember  nothing  that  I  have  done. — Yes,  I 
have  said  I  thought  I  might  tremble  if  I  was  led  out  to  bo 
shot." 

"  Pish  !  tush  !"  Laura  checked  her.  "  They  flog  women, 
they  do  not  shoot  them.     They  shoot  men." 

"  That  is  our  better  fortune,"  said  Ammiani. 

"  But,  Sandra,  my  sister,"  Laura  persisted  now,  in  uelo 


104  VITTOEIA. 

dious  coaxing  tones.  "  Can  you  not  help  ns  to  guess  ?  I  am 
troubled  :  I  am  stung.  It  is  for  your  sake  I  feel  it  so.  Can't 
you  imagine  who  did  it,  for  instance  ?" 

'•  No,  signora,  I  cannot,"  Vittovia  replied. 

"  You  can't  guess  ?" 

"  I  cannot  help  you." 

"You  will  not!"  said  the  irritable  woman.  "Have  you 
noticed  no  one  passing  near  you  ?" 

"  A  woman  brushed  by  me  as  I  entered  this  street.  I 
remember  no  one  else.  And  my  Beppo  seized  a  man  who 
was  spying  on  me,  as  he  said.     That  is  all  I  can  remember." 

Vittoria  turned  her  face  to  Ammiani. 

"  Barto  Rizzo  has  lived  in  England,"  he  remarked,  half  to 
himself.  "  Did  you  come  across  a  man  called  Barto  Rizzo 
there,  signorina  ?     I  suspect  him  to  be  the  author  of  this." 

At  the  name  of  Barto  Rizzo,  Laura's  eyes  widened, 
awakening  a  memory  in  Ammiani;  and  her  face  had  a 
spectral  wanness. 

"  I  must  go  to  my  chamber,"  she  said.  "  Talk  of  it  to- 
gether.    I  will  be  with  you  soon." 

She  left  them. 

Ammiani  bent  over  to  Vittoria's  ear.  "  It  was  this  man 
who  sent  the  warning  to  Giacomo,  the  signora's  husband, 
which  he  despised,  and  which  would  have  saved  him.  It  is 
the  only  good  thing  I  know  of  Barto  Rizzo.     Pardon  her." 

"  I  do,"  said  the  girl,  now  weeping. 

"  She  has  evidently  a  rooted  superstitious  faith  in  these 
revolutionary  sign-marks.  They  are  contagious  to  her.  She 
loves  you,  and  believes  in  you,  and  will  kneel  to  you  for  foi'- 
giveness  by-and-by.  Her  misery  is  a  disease.  She  thinks 
now,  '  If  my  husband  had  given  heed  to  the  warning  !'  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  how  her  heart  works,"  said  Vittoria.  "  You 
knew  her  husband,  signer  Carlo  ?" 

"  I  knew  him.  I  served  under  him.  He  was  the  brother 
of  my  love.     I  shall  have  no  other." 

Vittoria  placed  her  hand  for  Ammiani  to  take  it.  He 
joined  his  own  to  the  fevered  touch.  The  heart  of  the  young 
man  swelled  most  ungovernably,  but  the  perils  of  the  mor- 
row were  imaged  by  him,  circling  her  as  with  a  tragic  flame, 
and  he  had  no  word  for  his  passion. 

The  door  opened,  when  a  noble  little  boy  bounded  into  the 
room,    followed    by  a  little  girl   in  pink  and  white,  like  a 


THE  BRONZE  BUTTERFLY.  105 

streamer  in  tho  steps  of  lier  brother.  With  shouts,  and  with 
arms  thrown  forward,  they  flung  themselves  upon  Vittoria, 
the  boy  claiming  all  her  lap,  and  the  girl  struggling  for  a 
share  of  the  kingdom.  Vittoria  kissed  them,  crying,  "]S^o, 
no,  no,  Messer  Jack,  this  is  a  republic,  and  not  an  empire, 
and  you  are  to  have  no  rights  of  '  first  come ;'  and  Amalia 
sits  on  one  knee,  and  you  on  one  knee,  and  you  sit  face  to 
face,  and  take  hands,  and  swear  to  be  satisfied." 

"  Then  I  desire  not  to  be  called  an  English  Christian 
name,  and  you  will  call  me  Giacomo,"  said  the  boy. 

Vittoria  sang,  in  mountain-notes,  "  Giacomo  ! — Giacomo  ! 
— Giac-giac-giac  ....  como  !" 

The  children  listened,  glistening  up  at  her,  and  in  con- 
junction jumped  and  shouted  for  more. 

"  More  ?"  said  Vittoria  ;  "  but  is  the  signor  Carlo  no  friend 
of  ours  ?  and  does  he  wear  a  magic  ring  that  makes  him 
invisible  ?" 

"  Let  the  German  girl  go  to  him,"  said  Giacomo,  and 
strained  his  throat  to  reach  at  kisses. 

"  I  am  not  a  German  gii'l,"  little  Amalia  protested,  refusing 
to  go  to  Carlo  Ammiani  under  that  stigma,  though  a  delight- 
ful haven  of  open  arms  and  knees,  and  fillipping  fingers, 
invited  her. 

"  She  is  not  a  Gei-man  girl,  O  signor  Giacomo,"  said  Vit- 
toria, in  the  theatrical  manner. 

"  She  has  a  German  name." 

"It's  not  a  German  name !"  the  little  gii'l  shrieked. 

Giacomo  set  Amalia  to  a  miauling  tune. 

•'  So,  you  hate  the  Duchess  of  Graiitli  !"  said  Vittoria. 
"Very  well.     I  shall  remember." 

The  boy  declared  that  he  did  not  hate  his  mother's  friend 
and  sister's  godmother :  he  rather  liked  her,  he  really  liked 
her,  he  loved  her ;  but  he  loathed  the  name  "  Amalia,"  and 
could  not  understand  why  the  duchess  would  be  a  German. 
He  concluded  by  miauling  "  Amalia"  in  the  triumph  of 
contompt. 

"  Cat,  begone  !"  said  Vittoria,  promptly  setting  him  down 
on  his  feet,  and  little  Amalia  at  the  same  time  perceiving 
that  practical  sympathy  only  required  a  ring  at  the  bell  for 
it  to  come  out,  straightway  jjulled  tho  wires  within  herself, 
and  emitted  a  doleful  wail  that  gave  her  sole  possession  of 
Vittoria's  boaom,  where  she  was  allowed  to  bring  her  tears 


106  VITTORIA. 

to  an  end  very  comfortingly.  Giacomo  meanwhile,  his  body 
bent  in  an  arch,  plucked  at  Carlo  Animiaui's  wrists  with 
savagely  playful  tugs,  and  took  a  stout  boy's  lesson  in  the 
art  of  despising  what  he  coveted.  He  had  only  to  ask  for 
pardon.  Finding  it  necessary,  he  came  shyly  up  to  Vittoria, 
who  put  Amalia  in  his  way,  kissing  whom,  he  was  himself 
tenderly  kissed. 

"  But  girls  should  not  cry !"  Vittoria  reproved  the  little 
woman. 

"  Why  do  you  cry  ?"  asked  Amalia  simply. 

"  See  !  she  has  been  crying."  Giacomo  appropriated 
the  discovery,  perforce  of  loudness,  after  the  fashion  of  his 
sex. 

"  Why  does  our  Vittoria  cry  ?'*  both  the  children 
clamoured. 

"Because  your  mother  is  such  a  cruel  sister  to  her,"  said 
Laura,  .passing  up  to  them  fi*om  the  doorway.  She  drew 
Vittoria's  head  against  her  breast,  looked  into  her  eyes,  and 
sat  down  among  them.  Vittoria  sang  one  low-toned  soft 
song,  like  the  voice  of  evening,  before  they  were  dismissed 
to  their  beds.  She  could  not  obey  Giacomo's  demand  for  a 
martial  aii-,  and  had  to  plead  that  she  was  tired. 

When  the  children  had  gone,  it  was  as  if  a  truce  had 
ended.  The  signora  and  Ammiani  fell  to  a  brisk  counter- 
change  of  questions  relating  to  the  mysterious  suspicion 
which  had  fallen  upon  Vittoria.  Despite  Laura's  love  for 
her,  she  betrayed  her  invincible  feeling  that  there  must  be 
some  grounds  for  special  or  temporary  distrust. 

"  The  lives  that  hang  on  it  knock  at  me  here,"  she  said, 
touching  under  her  throat,  with  fingers  set  like  falling 
arrows. 

But  Ammiani,  who  moved  in  the  centre  of  conspiracies, 
met  at  their  councils,  and  knew  their  heads,  and  frequently 
combated  their  schemes,  was  not  possessed  by  the  same  pro- 
found idea  of  their  potential  command  of  hidden  facts  and 
sovereign  wisdom.  He  said,  "  We  trust  too  much  to  one 
man.  We  are  compelled  to  trust  him,  but  we  trust  too 
much  to  him.  I  mean  this  man,  this  devil,  Bai-to  Rizzo. 
Signora,  signora,  he  must  be  spoken  of.  He  has  dislocated 
the  plot.  He  is  the  fanatic  of  the  revolution,  and  we  are 
trusting  him  as  if  he  had  full  sway  of  reason.  What  is^  the 
consequence  ?     The  Chief  is  absent :  he  is  now  as  I  believe. 


THE  BRONZE  BUTTERFLY.  107 

in  Genoa.  All  the  plan  for  the  rising  is  accurate;  tho 
instruments  are  ready,  and  we  are  paralyzed.  I  have  been 
to  three  houses  to-nig"ht,  and  where,  two  hours  previously, 
there  was  iinion  and  concert,  all  are  irresolute  and  divided. 
I  have  hurried  off  a  messenger  to  the  Chief.  Until  we  hear 
from  him,  nothing  can  be  done.  I  left  Ugo  Corte  storming 
against  us  Milanese,  threatening,  as  usual,  to  woi'k  without 
us,  and  have  a  Bergamasc  and  Brescian  Republic  of  his  own. 
Count  ]\ledole  is  for  a  week's  postponement.  Agostino  smiles 
and  chuckles,  and  talks  his  poetisras." 

"  Until  you  hear  from  the  Chief,  nothing  is  to  be  done  ?" 
Laura  said  passionately,  "  Are  we  to  remain  in  suspense  ? 
Impossible  !  I  cannot  bear  it.  We  have  plenty  of  arms  in 
the  city.  Oh,  that  we  had  cannon!  I  worship  cannon! 
They  are  the  Gods  of  battle  !  But  if  we  surprise  the  citadel ; 
— one  true  shock  of  alarm  makes  a  mob  of  an  army.  I  have 
heard  my  husband  say  so.  Let  there  be  no  delay.  That  is 
my  word." 

"  But,  signora,  do  you  see  that  all  concert  about  the  signal 
is  lost  ?" 

"  My  friend,  I  see  something  ;"  Laura  nodded  a  significant 
half -meaning  at  him.  "  And  perhaj^s  it  will  be  as  well.  Go 
at  once.  See  that  another  signal  is  decided  upon.  Oh ! 
because  we  are  ready — ready.  Inaction  now  is  uttermost 
anguish — kills  the  heart.  What  number  of  the  white 
butchers  have  we  in  the  city  to-night  ?" 

"  They  are  marching  in  at  every  gate.  I  saw  a  regiment 
of  Hungarians  coming  up  the  Borgo  della  Stella.  Two 
fresh  squadrons  of  Uhlans  in  the  Corso  Francesco.  In  the 
Piazza  d'Armi  artillery  is  encamped." 

"  The  better  for  Brescia,  for  Bergamo,  for  Padua,  for 
Venice  !"  exclaimed  Laiira.  "  Thei-e  is  a  limit  to  their  power. 
We  Milanese  can  match  them.  For  days  and  days  I  have 
had  a  dream  lying  in  my  bosom  that  Milan  was  soon  to 
breathe.  Go,  my  brother;  go  to  Barto  Rizzo ;  gather  him 
and  Count  Medolo,  Agostino,  and  Colonel  Corte — to  whom 
I  kiss  my  fingers — gather  them  together,  and  squeeze  their 
brains  for  the  one  spark  of  divine  fire  in  this  darkness  which 
must  exist  where  there  are  so  many  thorough  men  bent  upon 
a  sacred  enterprise.  And,  Carlo," — Laura  checked  her  ner- 
vous voice, — "  don't  think  I  am  declaiming  to  you  from  nno 
of  my  '  Midnight  Lamps,'  "     (She  spoke  of  the  title  of  her 


108  VITTORIA. 

pamphlets  to  the  Italian  people.)  "  You  feel  among  ua 
women  very  much  as  Agostino  and  Colonel  Corte  feel  when 
the  boy  Carlo  airs  his  impetuosities  in  their  presence.  Yes, 
my  fervour  makes  a  philosopher  of  you.  That  is  human 
nature.     Pity  me,  pardon  me,  and  do  my  bidding." 

The  comparison  of  Ammiani's  present  sentiments  to  those 
of  the  elders  of  the  conspiracy,  when  his  mouth  was  open  in 
their  midst,  was  severe  and  mastei-ful,  for  the  young  man  rose 
instantly  without  a  thought  in  his  hefid. 

He  remai^ked  :  "  I  will  tell  them  that  the  signorina  does 
not  give  the  signal." 

"  Tell  them  that  the  name  she  has  chosen  shall  be  Vittoria 
still ;  but  say,  that  she  feels  a  shadow  of  suspicion  to  be  an 
injimction  upon  her  at  such  a  crisis,  and  she  will  serve  silently 
and  humbly  until  she  is  rightly  known,  and  her  time  comes. 
She  is  willing  to  appear  before  them,  and  submit  to  interro- 
gation. She  knows  her  innocence,  and  knowing  that  they 
work  for  the  good  of  the  country,  she,  if  it  is  their  will,  is 
content  to  be  blotted  out  of  all  participation  : — all !  She 
abjures  all  for  the  common  welfare.  Say  that.  And  say, 
to-morrow  night  the  rising  must  be.  Oh  !  to- morro w  night ! 
It  is  my  husband  to  me." 

Laura  Piaveni  crossed  her  arms  upon  her  bosom. 
Ammiani  was  moving  from  them  with  a  downward  face, 
when  a  bell-note  of  Vittoria's  voice  arrested  him. 

"  Stay,  signer  Carlo  ;  I  shall  sing  to-morrow  night." 
The  widow  heard  her  through  that  thick  emotion  which 
had  just  closed  her  speech  with  its  symbolical  sensuous 
rapture.  Divining  opposition  fiercely,  like  a  creature 
thwarted  when  athirst  for  the  wells,  she  gave  her  a  terrible 
look,  and  then  said  cajolingly,  as  far  as  absence  of  sweetness 
could  make  the  tones  pleasant,  "  Yes,  you  will  sing,  but  you 
will  not  sing  that  song." 

*'  It  is  that  song  which  I  intend  to  sing,  signora." 
"  When  it  is  interdicted  ?" 

"  There  is  only  one  whose  interdict  I  can  acknowledge.** 
"  You  will  dare  to  sing  in  defiance  of  me  ?" 
*'  I  dare  nothing  when  I  simply  do  my  duty." 
Ammiani  went  up  to  the  window,  and  leaned  there,  eyeing 
the  lights  leading  down  to  the  crowding  Piazza.     He  wished 
that  he  were   among  the  crowd,  and  might  not  hear  those 
sharp  stinging  utterances  coming  from  Laura,  and  Vittoria'a 


THE  BRONZE  BUTTERFLY.  109 

unwavering  replies,  less  frequent,  but  firmer,  and  gravely 
solid.  Laura  spent  her  energy  in  taunts,  but  Vittoria  spoke 
only  of  her  resolve,  and  to  the  point.  It  was,  as  his  military 
instincts  framed  the  simile,  like  the  venomous  crackling  of 
skirmishing  rifles  before  a  fortress,  that  answered  slowly  with 
its  volume  of  sound  and  sweeping  shot.  He  had  the  vision 
of  himself  pleading  to  secure  her  safety,  and  in  her  hearing, 
on  the  Motterone,  where  she  had  seemed  so  simple  a  damsel, 
albeit  nobly  enthusiastic  :  too  fair,  too  gentle  to  be  stationed 
in  any  corner  of  the  conflict  at  hand.  Partly  abased  by  the 
remembrance  of  his  brainless  intercessions  then,  and  of  the 
laughter  which  had  greeted  them,  and  which  the  signora  had 
recently  recalled,  it  was  nevertheless  not  all  in  self-abase- 
ment (as  the  momentary  recognition  of  a  splendid  character 
is  commonly  with  men)  that  he  perceived  the  stature  of  Vit- 
toria's  soul.  Remembering  also  what  the  Chief  had  sjjoken 
of  women,  Ammiani  thought  "  Perhaps  he  has  known  one 
such  as  she."  The  passion  of  the  young  man's  heart  mag- 
nified her  imas:e.  He  did  not  wonder  to  see  the  signora 
acknowledge  herself  worsted  in  the  conflict. 

"  She  talks  like  the  edge  of  a  sword,"  cried  Laura,  des- 
perately, and  dropped  into  a  chair.  "  Take  her  home,  and 
convince  her,  if  you  can,  on  the  way,  Carlo.  I  go  to  the 
Duchess  of  Graiitli  to-night.  She  has  a  reception.  Take 
this  girl  home.  She  says  she  ivill  sing  :  she  obeys  the  Chief, 
and  none  but  the  Chief.  We  will  not  suppose  that  it  is  her 
desire  to  shine.  She  is  suspected ;  she  is  accused ;  she  is 
branded  ;  there  is  no  genex'al  faith  in  her  ;  yet  she  will  hold 
the  torch  to-morrow  night : — and  what  ensues  ?  Some  will 
move,  some  turn  back,  some  run  headlong  over  to  treachery, 
some  hang  irresolute  :  all  are  for  the  shambles  !  The  blood 
is  on  her  head." 

"  1  will  excuse  myself  to  you  another  time,"  said  Vittoria, 
"I  love  you,  signora  Laura." 

"  You  do,  you  do,  or  you  would  not  think  of  excusing 
youi'sclf  to  me,"  said  Laura.  "  But  now,  go.  You  have  cut 
me  in  two.  Carlo  Ammiani  may  succeed  where  I  have  failed, 
and  I  have  used  every  weapon ;  enough  to  make  a  mean 
creature  hate  me  for  life  and  kiss  we  with  transports.  Do 
your  best.  Carlo,  and  let  it  bo  your  utmost." 

It  remained  for  Ammiani  to  assure  her  that  their  views 
were  d i ffeient. 


110  VITTORIA. 

"  Tlie  signorina  persists  in  her  detei'mi nation  to  carry  ont 
the  programme  indicated  by  the  Chief,  and  refuses  to  be 
diverted  from  her  path  bj  the  false  suspicions  of  subordi- 
nates." He  employed  a  sententious  phraseology  instinct- 
ively, as  men  do  when  they  are  nervous,  as  well  as  when 
they  justify  the  cynic's  definition  of  the  uses  of  speech. 
"  The  signorina  is,  in  my  opinion,  right.  If  she  draws  back, 
she  publicly  accepts  the  blot  upon  her  name.  I  speak  against 
my  own  feelings  and  my  wishes." 

"  Sandra,  do  you  hear  ?"  exclaimed  Laura.  "  This  is  a 
friend's  interpretation  of  your  inconsiderate  wilfulness." 

Vittoria  was  content  to  reply,  "  The  signor  Carlo  judges 
of  me  differently, 

"  Go,  then,  and  be  fortified  by  him  in  this  headstrong 
folly."     Laura  motioned  her  hand,  and  laid  it  on  her  face. 

Vittoria  knelt  and  enclosed  her  with  her  arms,  kissing  her 
knees. 

"  Beppo  waits  for  me  at  the  house-door,"  she  said;  but 
Carlo  chose  not  to  hear  of  this  shadow-like  Beppo. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  say  for  her  save  that  she  clears  her 
name  by  giving  the  signal,"  Laura  burst  out  on  his  temperate 
"Addio,"  and  started  to  her  feet.  "Well,  let  it  be  so. 
Fruitless  blood  again !  A  rivederla  to  you  both.  To-night 
I  am  in  the  enemy's  camp.  They  play  with  open  cards. 
Amalia  tells  me  all  she  knows  by  what  she  disguises.  I 
may  learn  something.  Come  to  me  to-morrow.  My  Ssyidra, 
I   will   kiss   you.       These   shudderings    of    mine    have   no 


meaning. 


The  signora  embraced  her,  and  took  Ammiani's  salute 
upon  her  fingers. 

"  Sour  fingers !"  he  said.  She  leaned  her  cheek  to  him, 
whispering,  "  I  could  easily  be  persuaded  to  betray  you." 

He  answered,  "  I  must  have  some  merit  in  not  betraying 
myself." 

"At  each  elbow!"  she  laughed.  "  You  show  the  thumps 
of  an  electric  battery  at  each  elbow,  and  expect  your  Goddess 
of  lightnings  not  to  see  that  she  moves  you.  Go.  You 
have  not  sided  with  me,  and  I  am  right,  and  I  am  a  woman. 
By  the  way,  Sandra  mia,  I  would  beg  the  loan  of  your 
Beppo  for  two  hours  or  less." 

Vittoria  placed  Bejipo  at  her  disposal. 

"And  you  run  home  to  bed,"  continued  Laura.     " "Reason 


THE  PLOT  OF  THE  SIGNOB,  ANTONIO.  Ill 

comes  to  yon  obstinate  people  wten  you  are  left  alone  for  a 
time  in  the  dark." 

She  hardly  listened  to  Vittoria's  statement  that  the  chief 
singers  in  the  new  opera  were  engaged  to  attend  a  meeting 
at  eleven  at  night  at  the  house  of  the  maestro  Rocco  Ricci. 


CHAPTER  Xin. 

THE  JfLOT  OF  THE  SIGNOR  ANTONIO. 

Theee  was  no  concealment  as  to  Laura's  object  in  making 
request  for  the  services  of  Bcppo.  She  herself  knew  it  to 
be  obvious  that  she  intended  to  probe  and  cross-examine  the 
man,  and  in  her  wilfulness  she  chose  to  be  obtuse  to  opinion. 
She  did  not  even  blush  to  lean  a  secret  ear  above  the  stairs 
that  she  mig'ht  judge,  by  the  tones  of  Vittoria's  voice  upon 
her  giving  Beppo  the  oi'der  to  wait,  whether  she  was  at  the 
same  time  conveying  a  hint  for  guardedness.  But  Vittoria 
said  not  a  Avord  :  it  was  Ammiani  who  gave  the  order.  "  I 
am  despicable  in  distrusting  her  for  a  single  second,"  said 
Laura.  That  did  not  the  less  encourage  her  to  question 
Beppo  rigorously  forthwith ;  and  as  she  was  not  to  be 
deceived  by  an  Italian's  aifectation  of  simplicity,  she  let  him 
answer  two  or  three  times  like  a  plain  fool,  and  then  abruptly 
accused  him  of  standing  prepared  with  these  answers. 
Beppo,  within  his  own  bosom,  immediately  ascribed  to  his 
sagacious  instinct  the  mere  spirit  of  opposition  and  dislike 
to  scrv^e  any  one  save  his  own  young  mistress  which  had 
caused  him  to  irritate  the  signora  and  be  on  his  guard.  He 
proffered  a  candid  admission  of  the  truth  of  the  charge ; 
adding,  that  he  stood  likewise  prepared  with  an  unlimited 
number  of  statements.  "  Questions,  illustrious  signora, 
invariably  put  me  on  the  defensive,  and  seem  to  cry  for  a 
return  thrust;  and  this  I  account  for  by  the  fact  that  my 
mother — the  blessed  little  woman  now  among  the  saints  ! — 
was  questioned,  brows  and  heels,  by  a  ferruginously-faced 
old  judge  at  the  momentous  period  when  she  carried  me. 
So  that,  a  question — and  I  show  point ;  but  ask  me  for  a 
statement,  and,  ah,  signora!"  Bepj)0  delivered  a  sweep  of 
the  arm,  as  to  indicate  the  spontaneous  flow  of  his  tongue. 


112  VITTORIA. 


"I  til  ink,"  said   Laura,  "you  have  been  a  soldier,  and  a 


servinaf-man." 


"  And  a  scene-sliifter,  most  noble  sip^nora,  at  La  Scala." 

*'  You  accompanied  the  signor  Mertjrio  to  England  when 
he  was  wounded  ?" 

"I  did." 

*'  And  there  you  beheld  the  signorina  Vittoria,  who  was 
then  bearing  the  name  of  Emilia  Belloni  ?" 

"  Which  name  she  changed  on  her  arrival  in  Italy,  illus- 
trious signora,  for  that  of  Vittoria  Campa — •'  sidV  cam-po  della 
qloria  —ah  !  ah  ! — her  own  name  being  an  attraction  to  the 
blow-flies  in  her  own  country.     All  this  is  true." 

"  It  should  be  a  comfort  to  you  !     The  Signor  Mertyrio  .  .  ." 

Beppo  writhed  his  person  at  the  continuance  of  the  ques- 
tionings, and  obtaining  a  pause,  he  rushed  into  his  state- 
ment :  "  The  signor  Mertyrio  was  well,  and  on  the  point  of 
visiting  Italy,  and  quitting  the  wave-embraced  island  of 
fog,  of  beer,  of  moist  winds,  and  much  money,  and  much 
kindness,  where  great  hearts  grew.  The  signorina  corre- 
sponded with  him,  and  with  him  only." 

"  You  know  that,  and  will  swear  to  it  ?"  Laura  exclaimed. 

Beppo  thereby  receiving  the  cue  he  had  conimenced 
boating  for,  swore  to  its  truth  profoundly,  and  straightway 
directed  his  statement  to  prove  that  his  mistress  had  not 
been  politically  (or  amorously,  if  the  suspicion  aimed  at  her 
in  those  softer  regions)  indiscreet  or  blameable  in  any  of  her 
actions.  The  signorina,  he  said,  never  went  out  from  her 
abode  without  the  companionship  of  her  meritorious  mother 
and  his  own  most  humble  attendance.  He,  Beppo,  had  a 
master  and  a  mistress,  the  signor  Mertyrio  and  the  signorina 
Vittoria.  She  saw  no  foreigners  :  though— a  curious  thing  ! 
— he  had  seen  her  when  the  English  language  was  talked  in 
her  ncighboarhood ;  and  she  had  a  love_  for  that  language : 
it  made  her  face  play  in  smiles  like  an  infant's  after  it  has 
had  suck  and  is  full ;— the  sort  of  look  you  perceive  when 
one  is  dreaming  and  hears  music.  She  did_  not  speak  to 
foreigners.  She  did  not  care  to  go  to  foreign  cities,^  but 
loved  Milan,  and  lived  in  it  free  and  happy  as  an  earwig  in 
a  ripe  apricot.  The  circumvallation  of  Milan  gave  her 
elbow-room  enough,  owing  to  the  absence  of  forts  all  round 
— "  which  knock  one's  funny-bone  in  Verona,  signora." 
Beppo  presented  a  pure  smile  upon  a  simple  bow  for  accept- 


THE  PLOT  OF  THE  SIGNOR  ANTONIO.  "    113 

iince.  "  The  air  of  Milan,"  he  went  on,  with  less  confi- 
dence nnder  Laura's  steady  gaze,  and  therefore  more  forcing 
of  his  candoui' — "  the  sweet  air  of  Milan  gave  her  a  deep 
chestful,  so  that  she  could  hold  her  note  as  long  as  five 
lengths  of  a  fiddle-bow : — by  the  body  of  Sant'  Auibrogio, 
it  was  true !  "  Beppo  stretched  out  his  arm,  and  chopped 
his  hand  edgeways  five  testificatory  times  on  the  shoulder- 
ridge.  "  Ay,  a  hawk  might  fly  from  St.  Luke's  head  (on 
the  Duomo)  to  the  stone  on  San  Prime  over  Como,  while 
the  signorina  held  on  her  note  !  You  listened,  you  gasped 
— you  thought  of  a  poet  in  his  dungeon,  and  suddenly, 
behold,  his  chains  are  struck  off ! — you  thought  of  a  gold 
shelled  tortoise  making  his  pilgrimage  to  a  beatific  shriue ! 
— you  thought — you  knew  not  what  you  thought !  " 

Here  Beppo  sank  into  a  short  silence  of  ecstasy,  and 
wakening  from  it,  as  with  an  ardent  liveliness  :  "  The  sig- 
nora  has  heard  her  sing  ?  How  to  describe  it !  To-morrow 
night  will  be  a  feast  for  Milan." 

"  You  think  that  the  dilettanti  of  Milan  will  have  a 
delight  to-moiTOW  night  ?  "  said  Laura  ;  but  seeing  that 
the  man's  keen  ear  had  caught  note  of  the  ironic  reptile 
under  the  flower,  and  unwilling  to  lose  further  time,  she  inter- 
dicted his  reply. 

"  Beppo,  my  good  friend,  you  are  a  complete  Italian — you 
waste  your  cleverness.  You  will  gratify  me  by  remembering 
that  I  am  your  countrywoman.  I  have  already  done  you  a 
similar  favour  by  allowing  you  to  air  your  utmost  ingenuity. 
The  reflection  that  it  has  been  to  no  purpose  will  neither 
scare  you  nor  instruct  you.  Of  that  I  am  quite  assured.  I 
speak  solely  to  suit  the  present  occasion.  Now,  don't  seek 
to  elude  me.  If  you  are  a  snake  with  friends  as  well  as 
enemies,  you  are  nothing  but  a  snake.  I  ask  you — you 
are  not  compelled  to  answer,  but  I  forbid  you  to  lie — has 
your  mistress  seen,  or  conversed  and  had  correspondence 
with  any  one  receiving  the  Tedeschi's  gold,  man  or  woman  ? 
Can  any  one,  man  or  woman,  call  her  a  traitress  ?  " 

"  Not  twice ! "  thundered  Beppo,  with  a  furrowed  red 
forehead. 

There  was  a  noble  look  about  the  follow  as  he  stood 
with  stiff  logs  in  a  posture,  fi'owning — theatrical,  but  noljlo 
albo ;  partly  the  look  of  a  i'igaro  dulending  his  Luuuur  ia 

I 


1  14  VITTORIA. 

extremity,  yet  mucli  like  a  statue  of  a  Frencli  Marshal  of  the 
Empire. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Laura,  rising.  She  was  about  to 
leave  him,  when  the  Duchess  of  Graatli's  chasseur  was 
ushered  in,  bearing  a  missive  from  Amalia,  her  friend. 
She  opened  it  and  read : — 

"  Best  beloved, — Am  I  soon  to  be  reminded  bitterly  that 
there  is  a  river  of  steel  between  my  heart  and  me  ? 

"  Fail  not  in  coming  to-night.  Your  new  Bulbul  is  in 
danger.  The  silly  thing  must  have  been  reading  Roman 
history.  Say  not  no !  It  intoxicates  you  all.  I  watch  over 
her  for  my  Laura's  sake :  a  thousand  kisses  I  shower  on  yon, 
dark  delicious  soul  that  you  are !  Are  you  not  my  pine- 
grove  leading  to  the  evening  star  ?  Come,  that  we  may  con- 
sult how  to  spirit  her  away  during  her  season  of  peril. 
Gulfs  do  not  close  over  little  female  madcaps,  my  Laura  ;  so 
we  must  not  let  her  take  the  leap.  Enter  the  salle  when  you 
arrive  :  pass  down  it  once  and  return  upon  your  steps  ;  then 
to  my  boudoir.  My  maid  Aennchen  will  conduct  you. 
Addio.  Tell  this  messenger  that  you  come.  Laura  mine,  1 
am  for  ever  thy 

"  Amalia." 

Laura  signalled  to  the  chasseur  that  her  answer  was 
affirmative.  As  he  was  retiring,  his  black-plumed  hat 
struck  against  Beppo,  who  thrust  him  aside  and  gave  the  hat 
a  dexterous  kick,  all  the  while  keeping  a  decorous  front 
toward  the  signora.  She  stood  meditating.  The  enraged 
chasseur  mumbled  a  word  or  two  for  Beppo's  ear,  in  execra- 
ble Italian,  and  went.  Beppo  then  commenced  bowing  half 
toward  the  doorway,  and  tried  to  shoot  through,  out  of  sight 
and  away,  in  a  final  droop  of  excessive  servility,  but  the 
sig-nora  »stopped  him,  telling  him  to  consider  himself  her 
servant  until  the  morning  :  at  which  he  manifested  a  sur- 
prising readiness,  indicative  of  nothing  short  of  personal 
devotion,  and  remained  for  two  minutes  after  she  had  quitted 
tlie  room.  So  much  time  having  elapsed,  he  ran  bounding 
down  the  stairs  and  found  the  hall-door  locked,  and  that  he 
was  a  pi'isoner  during  the  signora's  pleasure.  The  discovery 
that  he  was  mastered  by  superior  cunning,  instead  of  discon- 
f.erting,  quieted  him  wonderfully;  so  he  put  by  the  resources 


THE  PLOT  OP  THE  SIGNOE  ANTONIO.  115 

of  his  ingenuity  for  the  next  opportunity,  and  returned 
stealthily  to  his  starting-point,  where  the  signora  found 
him  awaiting  her  with  composure.  The  man  was  in  mortal 
terror  lest  he  might  be  held  guilty  of  a  trust  betrayed,  in 
leaA'ing  his  mistress  for  an  hour,  even  in  obedience  to  her 
command,  at  this  crisis  :  but  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to 
state  the  case  openly  to  the  signora,  whom  he  knew  to  be  his 
mistress's  friend,  or  to  think  of  practising  other  than  shrewd 
evasion  to  accomplish  his  duty  and  satisfy  his  conscience. 

Laura  said,  without  smiling,  "  The  street-door  opens  with 
a  key,"  and  she  placed  the  key  in  his  hand,  also  her  fan  to 
carry.  Once  out  of  the  house,  she  was  sure  that  he  would 
not  forsake  his  immediate  charge  of  the  fan :  she  walked  on, 
heavily  veiled,  confident  of  his  following.  The  Duchess  of 
Graiitli's  house  neighboured  the  Corso  Francesco;  numerous 
carriages  were  disburdening  theu*  freights  of  fair  guests,  and 
now  and  then  an  Austrian  officer  in  full  uniform  ran  up  the 
steps,  glittering  under  the  lamps.  "  I  go  in  among  them," 
thought  Laura.  It  rejoiced  her  that  she  had  come  on  foot. 
Forgetting  Beppo,  and  her  black  fan,  as  no  Italian  woman 
would  have  done  but  she  who  paced  in  an  acute  quivering  of 
the  anguish  of  hopeless  remembrances  and  hopeless  thirst  of 
vengeance,  she  suffered  herself  to  be  conducted  in  the  midst 
of  the  guests,  and  shuddered  like  one  who  has  taken  a  fever- 
chill  as  she  fulfilled  the  duchess's  directions  ;  she  passed 
down  the  length  of  the  saloon,  through  a  light  of  visages 
that  were  not  human  to  her  sensations. 

Meantime  Beppo,  oppressed  by  his  custody  of  the  fan,  and 
expecting  that  most  serviceable  lady's  instrument  to  be  sent 
for  at  any  minute,  stood  among  a  strange  body  of  semi- 
feudal  retainers  below,  where  he  was  soon  singled  out  by  the 
duchess's  chasseur,  a  Styrian,  Avho,  masking  his  fury  under 
jest,  in  the  South- Grerman  manner,  endeavoured  to  lead  him 
up  to  an  altercation.  But  Beppo  was  much  too  supple  to  be 
enti-appc'd.  He  apologized  for  any  possiVjle  offences  that  he 
might  have  committed,  assuring  the  chasseur  that  he  con- 
sidered one  hat  as  good  as  another,  and  some  hats  better 
than  others :  in  proof  of  extreme  cordiality,  he  accepted  the 
task  of  repeating  the  chasseur's  name,  which  was  '  Jacob 
Baumwalder  Feckelwitz,'  a  tolerable  mouthful  for  an  Italian; 
and  it  was  with  remarkable  delicacy  that  Beppo  contrived  to 
take  upon  himself  the  whole  i-idicule  of  his  vile  pronuncia- 

I  2 


1 1  6  VITTOEIA. 

tion  of  tlie  unwieldy  name.  Jacob  Caumwaldcr  Feckelwit? 
offered  him  beer  to  refresh  him  after  the  effort.  While 
Beppo  was  drinking,  he  seized  the  fan.  "  Good  ;  good  ;  a 
thousand  thanks,"  said  Beppo,  relinquishing  it ;  "  convey  it 
aloft,  I  beseech  you."  He  displayed  such  alacrity  and  light- 
ness of  limb  at  getting  rid  of  it,  that  Jacob  thrust  it  through 
the  buttons  of  his  shirt-front,  returning  it  to  his  possession 
by  that  aperture.  Beppo's  head  sank.  A  handful  of  black 
lace  and  cedar- wood  chained  him  to  the  spot !  He  entreated 
the  men  in  livery  to  take  the  fan  up- stairs  and  deliver  it  to 
the  signora  Laura  Piaveni ;  but  they,  being  advised  by  Jacob, 
refused.  "  Go  yourself,"  said  Jacob,  laughing,  and  little  pre- 
pared to  see  the  victim,  on  whom  he  thought  that  for  another 
hour  at  least  he  had  got  his  gi-eat  paw  firmly,  take  him  at 
his  word.  Beppo  sprang  into  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs. 
The  duchess's  maid,  ivory-faced  Aennchen,  was  flying  past 
liim.  She  saw  a  very  taking  dark  countenance  ijaaking  eyes 
at  her,  leaned  her  ear  shyly,  and  pretending  to  understand 
all  that  was  said  by  the  rapid  foreign  tongue,  acted  from 
the  suggestion  of  the  sole  thing  which  she  did  understand. 
Beppo  had  mentioned  the  name  of  the  signora  Piaveni. 
"  This  way,"  she  indicated  with  her  finger,  supposing  that 
of  course  he  wanted  to  see  the  signora  very  urgently.  Beppo 
tried  hard  to  get  her  to  carry  the  fan ;  but  she  lifted  her 
fingers  in  a  perfecu  Susannah  horror  of  it,  though  still  bid- 
ding him  to  follow.  I^aturally  she  did  not  go  fest  through 
the  dark  passages,  where  the  game  of  the  fan  was  once  more 
played  out,  and  with  accompaniments.  The  accompaniments 
she  objected  to  no  further  than  a  fish  is  agitated  in  escaping 
from  the  hook  ;  but  "  Nein,  nein!"  in  her  own  languag-e,  and 
"  No,  no  !"  in  his,  burst  from  her  lips  whenever  he  attempted 
to  transfer  the  fan  to  her  keeping,  "  These  white  women  ai'e 
most  wonderful !"  thought  Beppo,  ready  to  stagger  between 
perplexity  and  impatience.  "There;  in  there!"  said  Aenn- 
chen, pointing  to  a  light  that  came  through  the  folds  of  a 
curtain.  Beppo  kissed  her  fingei's  as  they  tugged  unre- 
luctantly  in  hig  clutch,  and  knew  by  a  little  pause  that  the 
case  was  hopeful  for  higher  jn'ivileges.  What  to  do  ?  He 
had  not  an  instant  to  spare ;  yet  he  dared  not  offend  a 
woman's  vanity.  He  gave  an  ecstatic  pressui-e  of  her  hand 
upon  his  breast-bone,  to  let  her  be  sure  slie  was  adored, 
albeit  not  embraced.     After  this  act  of  prudence  he  went 


THE  PLOT  OF  THE  SIGNOR  ANTONIO.  117 

toward  the  curtain,  "while  the  fair  Austrian  soubi'ette  flew  on 
lier  previous  errand. 

It  was  enough  that  Beppo  found  himself  in  a  dark  ante- 
chamber for  him  to  be  instantly  scrupulous  in  his  footinf^ 
and  breathing.  As  he  touched  the  curtain,  a  door  opened  on 
the  other  side  of  the  interior,  and  a  tender  gabble  of  fresh 
feminine  voices  bi-oke  the  stillness  and  ran  on  like  a  brook 
coming  from  leaps  to  a  level,  and  again  leaping  and  making 
noise  of  joy.  The  duchess  of  Graatli  had  clasped  the  signora 
Laura's  two  hands  and  drawn  her  to  an  ottoman,  and  between 
kissings  and  warmer  claspings,  was  questioning  of  the  little 
ones,  Giacomo  and  her  god-daughter  Amalia. 

"  When,  when  did  I  see  you  last  ?"  she  acclaimed.  "  Oh  ! 
not  since  we  met  that  morning  to  lay  our  immortelles  upon 
Ms  tomb.  My  soul's  sister  !  kiss  me,  remembering  it.  I 
saw  you  in  the  gateway — it  seemed  to  me,  as  in  a  vision, 
that  we  had  both  had  one  warning  to  come  for  him,  and 
knock,  and  the  door  would  be  opened,  and  our  beloved  would 
come  forth !  That  was  many  days  back.  It  is  to  me  like 
a  day  locked  up  for  ever  in  a  casket  of  pearl.  Was  it  not 
an  unstained  morning,  my  own !  If  I  weep,  it  is  with 
pleasure.  But,"  she  added  with  precipitation,  "  weeping  of 
any  kind  will  not  do  for  these  eyelids  of  mine."  And  draw- 
ing forth  a  tiny  gold-framed  pocket-mirror  she  perceived 
convincingly  that  it  would  not  do. 

"  They  will  think  it  is  for  the  absence  of  my  husband," 
she  said,  as  only  a  woman  can  say  it  who  deplores  nothing 
60  little  as  that. 

"  When  does  he  return  from  Vienna  ?"  Laura  inquired  in 
the  fallen  voice  of  her  thoughtfulness. 

"  I  receive  two  couriers  a  week ;  I  know  not  any  more, 
my  Laura.  I  believe  he  is  pushing  some  connubial  com- 
plaint against  me  at  the  Coui't.  We  have  been  married 
seventeen  months.  I  submitted  to  the  marriao'e  because  I 
could  get  no  proper  freedom  without,  and  now  I  am  expected 
to  abstain  from  the  very  thing  I  sacrificed  myself  to  get! 
Can  he  hear  that  in  Vienna  ?"  She  snapped  her  fingers. 
"If  not,  let  him  come  and  behold  it  in  Milan.  Besides,  ho 
is  harmless.  The  Archd\ichess  is  all  ears  for  the  very  man 
of  whom  he  is  jealous.  This  is  my  reply  :  You  told  me  to 
marry  :  I  obeyed.  My  heai-t's  in  the  earth,  and  I  must  have 
distractions.     My  present  distraction  is  Do  Pyrmont,  a  good 


1 1 8  VITTORIA. 

CathoHi,  and  a  good  Austrian  soldier,  though  a  Frenchman. 
I  grieve  to  say — it's  horrible— that  it  sometimes  tickles  me 
when  I  reflect  that  De  Pyrmont  is  keen  with  the  sword. 
But  remember,  Laura,  it  was  not  until  after  our  marriage 
my  husband  told  me  he  could  have  saved  Giacomo  by  the 
lifting  of  a  finger.  Away  with  the  man  ! — if  it  amuses  me 
to  punish  him,  I  do  so." 

The  duchess  kissed  Laura's  cheek,  and  continued : — 

"  Now  to  the  point  where  we  stand  enemies !  I  am  for 
Austria,  you  are  for  Italy.  Good.  But  I  am  always  for 
Laura.  So,  there's  a  river  between  us  and  a  bridge  across 
it.  My  darling,  do  you  know  that  we  are  much  too  strong 
for  you,  if  you  mean  anything  serious  to-morrow  night  ?" 

"  Are  you  ?"  Laura  said  calmly. 

"  I  know,  you  see,  that  something  is  meant  to  happen 
to-morrow  night." 

Laura  said,  "  Do  you  ?" 

"  We  have  positive  evidence  of  it.  More  than  that :  Tour 
Vittoria — but  do  you  care  to  have  her  warned  ?  She  will 
certainly  find  herself  in  a  pitfall  if  she  insists  on  carrying 
out  her  design.  Tell  me,  do  you  care  to  have  her  warned 
and  shielded  ?  A  year  of  fortress-life  is  not  agreeable,  is 
not  beneficial  for  the  voice.     Speak,  my  Laura." 

Laura  looked  up  in  the  face  of  her  friend  mildly  with  her 
large  dark  eyes,  replying,  "  Do  you  think  of  sending  Major 
de  Pyrmont  to  her  to  warn  her  ?" 

"Are  you  not  wicked?"  cried  the  duchess,  feeling  that 
she  blushed,  and  that  Laura  had  thrown  her  off  the  straight 
road  of  her  interrogation.  "  But,  play  cards  with  open  hands, 
my  darling,  to-night.  Look  : — She  is  in  danger.  I  know 
it ;  so  do  you.  She  will  be  imprisoned  perhaps  before  she 
steps  on  the  boards — who  knows  ?  Now,  I — are  not  my 
very  dreams  all  sworn  in  a  regiment  to  serve  my  Laura  ? — 
I  have  a  scheme.  Truth,  it  is  hardly  mine.  It  belongs  to 
the  Greek,  the  signer  Antonio-Pericles  Agriolopoulos.  It 
is  simply" — the  duchess  dropped  her  voice  out  of  Beppo's 
hearing — "  a  scheme  to  rescue  her :  speed  her  away  to  my 
chateau  near  Meran  in  Tyrol."  '  Tyrol '  was  heard  by  Beppo. 
In  his  frenzy  at  the  loss  of  the  context  he  indulged  in  a 
yawn,  and  a  grimace,  and  a  dance  of  disgust  all  in  one ; 
which  lost  him  the  next  sentence  likewise.  "  There  we 
purpose  keeping  her  till  all  is  quiet  and  her  revolutionary 


THE  PLOT  OF  THE  SIONOE  ANTONIO.  119 

fever  has  passed.  Have  you  heard  of  this  signor  Antonio  ? 
He  could  buy  up  the  kingdom  of  Greece,  all  Tyrol,  half 
Lombardy.  The  man  has  a  passion  for  your  Vittoria ;  for 
her  voice  solely,  I  believe.  He  is  considered,  no  doubt  truly, 
a  great  connoisseur.  He  could  have  a  passion  for  nothing 
else,  or  alas !"  (the  duchess  shook  her  head  with  doleful 
drollery)  "  would  he  insist  on  written  securities  and  mort- 
gages of  my  private  property  when  he  lends  me  money  ? 
How  different  the  world  is  from  the  romances,  my  Laura  ! 
But  for  De  Pyrmont,  I  might  fancy  my  smile  was  really 
incapable  of  ransoming  an  empire ;  I  mean  an  emperor. 
Speak ;  the  man  is  waiting  to  come  ;  shall  I  summon  him  ?" 
Laura  gave  an  acquiescent  nod. 

By  this  time  Beppo  had  taken  root  to  the  floor.  "  I  am 
in  the  best  place  after  all,"  he  said,  thinking  of  the  duties 
of  his  service.  'He  was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  tho 
features  of  the  signor  Antonio.  He  knew  that  Luigi  was  the 
sio-nor  Antonio's  spy  upon  Vittoria,  and  that  no  personal 
harm  was  intended  toward  his  mistress  ;  but  Beppo's  heart 
was  in  the  i-evolt  of  which  Vittoria  was  to  give  the  signal ; 
so,  without  a  touch  of  animosity,  determined  to  thwart  him, 
Beppo  waited  to  hear  the  signor  Antonio's  scheme. 

The  Greek  was  introduced  by  Aennchen.  She  glanced  at 
the  signora's  lap,  and  seeing  her  still  without  her  fan,  her 
eye  shot  slyly  up  with  her  shining  temple,  inspecting  tho 
narrow  opening  in  the  curtain  furtively.  A  short  hush  o£ 
preluding  ceremonies  passed. 

Presently  Beppo   heard   them  speaking;    he  was   aghast 
to  find  that  he  had  no  comprehension  of  what  they  were 
uttering.       "  Oh,    accursed    French    dialect !"     he  groaned  ; 
discovering   the    talk  to  be   in   that   tongue.       The    signor 
Antonio  warmed   rapidly  from  the  frigid  politeness  of  his 
introductory    manner.      A   consummate   acquaintance    with 
French  was  required  to  understand  him.     He  held  out  tho 
fingers  of  one  hand  in  regimental  order,  and  with  the  others, 
which  alternately  screwed  his  moustache  from  its  constitu- 
tional droop  over  the  comers  of  his  mouth,  he  touched  the 
uplifted  digits  one  by  one,  buzzing  over  them,  flashing  his  * 
white  eyes,  and    shrugging  in    a  way  svifficicnt  to  madden 
a    sui-reptitious    listener  Avho   was    aware    that    a    wealth 
of   meaning   escaped  him  and  mocked  at  him.       At  times 
the    signor  Antonio    pitched    a  note    compounded  half    of 


1  '20  VITTORIAi 

cursing,  half  of  crying,  it  seemed:  both  pathetic  and  objur- 
gative,  as  if  he  whimpered  anathemas  and  had  inexpressible 
bitter  things  in  his  mind.  But  there  was  a  remedy !  He 
displayed  the  specific  on  a  third  finger.  It  was  there.  This 
being  done  (number  three  on  the  fingers),  matters  might 
still  be  well.  So  much  his  electric  French  and  gesticula- 
tions plainly  asserted.  Beppo  strained  all  his  attention  for 
names  in  despair  at  the  riddle  of  the  signs.  Names  were 
pillars  of  light  in  the  dark  unintelligible  waste.  The  signora 
put  a  question.  It  was  replied  to  with  the  name  of  the 
Maestro  Rocco  Ricci.  Following  that,  the  signer  Antonio 
accompanied  his  voluble  delivery  with  pantomimic  action 
which  seemed  to  indicate  the  shutting  of  a  door  and  an 
instantaneous  galloping  of  horses — a  flight  into  air,  any- 
whither.  He  whipped  the  visionary  steeds  with  enthusiastic 
glee,  and  appeared  to  be  off  skyward  like  a  mad  poet,  when 
the  signora  again  put  a  question,  and  at  once  he  struck  his 
hand  flat  across  his  mouth,  and  sat  postured  to  answer  what 
she  pleased  with  a  glare  of  polite  vexation.  She  spoke ;  he 
echoed  her,  and  the  duchess  took  up  the  same  phrase.  Beppo 
was  assisted  by  the  triangular  recurrence  of  the  words  and 
their  partial  relationship  to  Italian  to  interpret  them  :  "This 
night."  Then  the  signora  questioned  further.  The  Greek 
replied  :  "  Mademoiselle  Irma  di  Karski." 

"  La  Lazzeruola,"  she  said. 

The  signer  Antonio  flashed  a  bit  of  sarcastic  mimicry,  as 
if  acquiescing  in  the  justice  of  the  opprobrious  term  from 
the  high  point  of  view :  but  mademoiselle  might  pass, — she 
■was  good  enough  for  the  public. 

Beppo  heard  and  saw  no  more.  A  tug  from  behind  re- 
called him  to  his  situation.  He  put  out  his  arms  and 
gathered  Aennchen  all  dark  in  them  :  and  first  kissing  her 
so  heartily  as  to  set  her  trembling  on  the  verge  of  a  betrayal, 
before  she  could  collect  her  wits  he  struck  the  fan  down  the 
pretty  hollow  of  her  back,  between  her  shoulder-blades,  and 
bounded  away.  It  was  not  his  intention  to  rush  into  the 
embrace  of  Jacob  Baumwalder  Feckelwitz,  but  that  peram- 
bulating chasseur  received  him  in  a  semi-darkness  where  all 
were  shadows,  and  exclaimed,  "  Aennchen  !"  Beppo  gave 
an  endearing  tenderness  to  the  few  words  of  German  kno\^^l 
to  him:  "  GoU — schaf — donner — dtimmer !"  and  slipj^ed  from 
the  hold  of  the  astonished  Jacob,  sheer  under  his  arm  pit. 


AT  THE  MAESTRO's  DOOE.  121 

He  wag  soon  in  the  street,  excited  he  knew  not  by  what,  or 
for  what  object.  He  shuffled  the  names  he  remembered  to 
have  just  heard — '  Rocco  Ricci,'  and  '  la  Lazzeruola.'  Why 
did  the  name  of  la  Lazzeruola  come  in  advance  of  laYittoria? 
And  what  was  the  thing  meant  by  "  this  night,"  which  all 
three  had  uttered  as  in  an  agreement  ? — ay  !  and  the  Tyrol ! 
The  Tyrol — this  night — Rocco  Ricci — la  Lazzeruola ! 

lieppo's  legs  were  carrying  him  toward  the  house  of  the 
maestro  Rocco  Ricci  ere  he  had  arrived  at  any  mental 
decision  upon  these  imminent  mysteries. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


AT  THE  MAESTRO  S  DOOR. 


The  house  of  the  maestro  Rocco  Ricci  turned  ofE  the 
Borgo  della  Stella.  Carlo  Ammiani  conducted  Vittoria  to 
the  maestro's  door.     They  conversed  very  little  on  the  way, 

"  You  are  a  good  swoi-dsman  ?"  she  asked  him  abruptly. 

"  I  have  as  much  skill  as  belongs  to  a  perfect  intimacy 
with  the  weapon,"  he  answered. 

"  Yqui'  father  \^as  a  soldier,  Signer  Carlo." 

"  He  was  a  General  officer  in  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
army  of  Italy.  We  used  to  fence  together  every  day  for 
two  houi'S." 

"  I  love  the  fathers  who  do  that,"  said  Vittoria. 

After  such  sjieaking  Ammiani  was  not  cap;ible  of  the 
attempt  to  preach  peace  and  safety  to  her.  He  postponed  it 
to  the  next  minute  and  the  next. 

Vittoi-ia's  spirit  was  in  one  of  those  angry  knots  which  are 
half  of  the  intellect,  half  of  the  will,  and  are  much  under  the 
domination  of  one  or  other  of  the  passions  in  the  ascendant. 
She  was  resolved  to  go  forward ;  she  felt  justified  in  going 
forward ;  but  the  divine  afilatus  of  enthusiasm  buoyed  her 
no  longer,  and  she  required  the  support  of  all  that  accuracy 
of  insight  and  that  senseless  stubbornness  which  there  might 
be  in  her  nature.  The  feeling  that  it  was  she  to  whom  it 
was  given  to  lift  the  torch  and  plant  the  standard  of  Italy, 
had  swept  her  as  through  the  strings  of  a  harp.     Laui-a,  and 


122  VITTORIA. 

the  horrible  little  bronze  butterfly,  and  the  '  Set  sospctta,''  now 
made  her  duty  seem  dry  and  miserably  fleshless,  imaging 
itself  to  her  as  if  a  skeleton  had  been  told  to  arise  and  walk : 
— say,  the  thing  obeys,  and  fills  a  ghastly  distension  of 
men's  eyelids  for  a  space,  and  again  lies  down,  and  men  get 
their  breath:  bnt  who  is  the  rosier  for  it  ?  where  is  the  glory 
of  it  ?  what  is  the  good  ?  This  Milan,  and  Verona,  Padua, 
Vicenza,  Brescia,  Venice,  Florence,  the  whole  Venetian,  Tus- 
can, and  Lombardic  lands,  down  to  far  Sicily,  and  that  Rome 
which  always  lay  under  the  crown  of  a  dead  sunset  in  her 
idea — they  too  might  rise;  but  she  thought  of  them  as 
skeletons  likewise.  Even  the  shadowy  vision  of  Italy  Free 
had  no  bloom  on  it,  and  stood  fronting  the  blown  trum- 
pets of  resurrection  Lazarus-like. 

At  these  moments  young  hearts,  though  full  of  sap  and 
fire,  cannot  do  common  nursing  labour  for  the  little  suckling 
sentiments  and  hopes,  the  dreams,  the  languors  and  the 
energies  hanging  about  them  for  nourishment.  Vittoria's 
horizon  was  within  five  feet  of  her.  She  saw  neither 
splendid  earth  nor  ancient  heaven  ;  nothing  save  a  breach 
to  be  stepped  over  in  defiance  of  foes  and  (what  was  harder 
to  brave)  of  friends.  Some  wayward  activity  of  old  associa- 
tions set  her  humming  a  quaint  English  tune,  by  which  she 
was  brought  to  her  consciousness. 

"  Dear  friend,"  she  said,  becoming  aware  that  there  might 
be  a  more  troubled  depth  in  Ammiani's  absence  of  speech 
than  in  her  own. 

"Tesr"  said  he,  quickly,  as  for  a  sentence  to  follow. 
None  came,  and  he  continued,  "  The  signora  Laura  is  also 
your  friend." 

She  rejoined  coldly,  "  I  am  not  thinking  of  her." 

Vittoria  had  tried  to  utter  what  might  be  a  word  of  com- 
fort for  him,  and  she  found  she  had  not  a  thought  or  an 
emotion.  Here  she  differed  from  Laura,  who,  if  the  mood  to 
heal  a  favourite's  little  sore  at  any  season  came  upon  her, 
would  shower  out  lively  tendernesses  and  all  cajoleries  pos- 
sible to  the  tongue  of  woman.  Yet  the  irritation  of  action 
narrowed  Laura  more  than  it  did  Vittoria  ;  fevered  her  and 
distracted  her  sympathies.  Being  herself  a  plaything  at  the 
time,  she  could  easily  play  a  part  for  others.  Vittoria  had 
not  grown,  probably  never  would  grow,  to  be  so  plastic  off 
the  stage.     She  was  stringing  her  hand  to  strike  a  blow  as 


AT  THE  MAESTRO'S  DOOE.  12') 

men  strike,  and  women  when  tliey  do  that  cannot  be  quite 
feminine. 

"  How  dull  the  streets  are,"  she  remarked. 

"  They  are,  just  now,"  said  Ammiani,  thinking  of  them  on 
the  night  to  come  convulsed  with  strife,  and  of  her  tossed 
perhaps  like  a  weed  along  the  torrent  of  bloody  deluge 
waters.  Her  step  w^as  so  firm,  her  face  so  assured,  that  he 
could  not  fancy  she  realized  any  prospect  of  the  sort,  and 
it  filled  him  with  pity  and  a  wretched  quailing. 

If  I  speak  now  I  shall  be  talking  like  a  coward,  he  said  to 
himself:  and  he  was  happily  too  prudent  to  talk  to  her  in 
that  strain.  So  he  said  nothing  of  peace  and  safety.  She 
was  almost  at  liberty  to  believe  that  he  approved  the  wisdom 
of  her  resolution.  At  the  maestro's  door  she  thanked  him 
for  his  escort,  and  begged  for  it  further  within  an  hour. 
"  And  do  bring  me  some  chocolate."  She  struck  her  teeth 
together  champing  in  a  pretty  hunger  for  it.  "  1  have  no 
chocolate  in  my  pocket,  and  I  hardly  know  myself." 

"  What  will  your  signer  Antonio  say  ?" 

Vittoria  fillipped  her  fing-ers.  "  His  rule  is  over,  and  ho 
is  my  slave  :  I  am  not  his.  I  will  not  eat  much  ;  but  some 
— some  I  must  have." 

Ammiani  laughed  and  promised  to  obtain  it.  "  That  is, 
if  there's  any  to  be  had." 

"  Break  open  doors  to  get  it  for  me,"  she  said,  stamping 
with  fun  to  inspirit  him. 

No  sooner  was  she  standing  alone,  than  her  elbow  was 
gently  plucked  at  on  tiie  other  side  :  a  voice  was  sibillating  : 
"  S-s-signorina."  She  allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  out  of 
the  light  of  the  open  doorway,  liaving  no  suspicion  and  no 
fear.  "  Signorina,  here  is  chocolate."  She  beheld  two 
hands  in  cup-shajoe,  surcharged  with  packets  of  Turin 
chocolate. 

"  Luigi,  it  is  you  ?" 

The  Motterone  spy  screwed  his  eyelids  to  an  expression  of 
the  shrewdest  secresy. 

"  Hist !  signorina.  Take  some.  You  shall  have  all,  but 
wait: — by-and-by.  Aha!  you  look  at  my  eyes  as  you  did  on 
the  Motterone,  because  one  of  them  takes  the  shoulder-view  ; 
but,  the  truth  is,  my  father  was  a  contrabandist,  and  had  his 
eye  in  his  ear  wlien  tlie  fi-ontier  guard  sent  a  bullet  throiigli 
liis  back,  cotton-bags  and  cutleries,  and  all !     I  inherit  from 


124  VITTORIA. 

him,  and  have  been  wry-eyed  ever  since.  How  docs  tliat 
toucli  a  man's  honesty,  siguoi'ina  ?  Not  at  all.  Don't  even 
suspect  that  you  won't  appreciate  Luigi  by-and-by.  Soj 
yon  won't  ask  me  a  word,  signorina,  but  up  you  go  to  the 
maestro  : — signorina,  I  swear  I  am  your  faithful  servant : — 
up  to  the  maestro,  and  down  first.  Come  down  first :  not 
last : — first.  Let  the  other  one  come  down  after  you ;  and 
you  come  down  first.  Leave  her  behind,  la  Lazzeruola ;  and 
here,"  Luigi  displayed  a  black  veil,  the  common  head-dress 
of  the  Milanese  women,  and  twisted  his  fingers  round  and 
round  on  his  forehead  to  personate  the  horns  of  the  veil ; 
"  take  it,  signorina ;  you  know  how  to  wear  it.  Luigi  and 
the  saints  watch  over  you." 

Vittoria  found  herself  left  in  possession  of  the  veil  and  a 
packet  of  chocolate. 

"  If  I  am  watched  over  by  the  saints  and  Luigi !"  she 
thought,  and  bit  at  the  chocolate. 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  her,  Luigi  resumed  his 
station  near  it,  warily  casting  his  glances  along  the  house- 
fronts,  and  moving'  his  springy  little  legs  like  a  heath-cock 
alert.  They  carried  him  sharp  to  an  opposite  corner  of  the 
street  at  a  noise  of  some  one  running  exposed  to  all  eyes 
right  down  the  middle  of  the  road,  straight  to  the  house  :  in 
which  foolish  person  he  discerned  Beppo,  all  of  whose  pro- 
ceedings Luigi  observed  and  commented  on  from  the  safe 
obscurity  under  eaves  and  starlight,  while  Beppo  was  in  the 
light  of  the  lamps.  "  You  thunder  at  the  door,  my  Beppo. 
You  are  a  fire-balloon :  you  are  going  to  burn  yourself  up 
with  what  you  carry.  You  think  you  can  do  something, 
because  you  read  books  and  frequent  the  talking  theatres — - 
fourteen  syllables  to  a  word.  Mother  of  heaven !  will  you 
never  learn  anything  from  natural  intelligence  ?  There  you 
are,  in  at  the  door.  And  now  you  will  disturb  the  signorina, 
and  you  will  do  nothing  but  make  la  Lazzeruola's  ears  lively. 
Bounce  !  you  are  up  the  stairs.  Bounce !  you  are  on  the 
landing.  Thrum  !  you  drum  at  the  door,  and  they  are  sing- 
ing ;  they  don't  hear  you.  And  now  you're  meek  as  a  mouse. 
That's  it — if  you  don't  hit  the  mark  when  you  go  like  a 
bullet,  you're  stupid  as  lead.  And  they  call  you  a  clever 
fellow  !  Luigi's  day  is  to  come.  When  all  have  paid  him 
all  round,  they  will  acknowledge  Luigi's  worth.  You  arc 
honest  enough,  my   Beppo;    but  you  might   as   well   bo  a 


AT  THE  MAESTRO's  DOOR.  125 

conntrTman.  You  are  the  signorina's  servant,  but  I  know 
the  ttu'nings,  said  the  rat  to  the  cavaliero  weazel." 

In  a  few  minutes  Beppo  stepped  from  the  house,  and 
flung  himself  with  his  back  against  the  lintel  of  the  doorway, 

"  That  looks  like  determination  to  stop  on  guard,"  said 
Luigi. 

He  knew  the  exact  feeling  expressed  by  it,  when  one  has 
come  violently  on  an  errand  and  has  done  no  good. 

"  A  flea,  my  feathery  lad,  will  set  you  flying  again." 

As  it  was  imperative  in  Luigi's  schemes  that  Beppo  should 
be  set  flying  again,  he  slipped  away  stealthily,  and  sped  fast 
into  the  neighbouring  Corso,  where  a  light  English  closed 
carriage,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  the  island  horses,  moved  at  a 
slow  pace.  Two  men  were  on  the  driver's  seat,  one  of  whom 
Luigi  hailed  to  come  down :  then  he  laid  a  strip  of  paper  on 
his  knee,  and  after  thumping  on  the  side  of  his  nose  to  get  a 
notion  of  English-Italian,  he  wrote  with  a  pencil,  dancing 
upon  one  leg  all  the  while  for  a  balance : — 

"  Come,  Beppo,  daughter  sake,  now,  at  once,  immediate, 
Beppo,  signer." 

"  That's  to  the  very  extremity  how  the  little  signora 
Ing'lese  would  wi'ite,"  said  Luigi  ;  yet  cogitating  profoundly 
in  a  dubitative  twinkle  of  a  second  as  to  whether  it  might 
not  be  the  English  habit  to  wind  up  a  hasty  naissive  with  an 
expediting  oath.  He  had  heard  the  oath  of  emphasis  in  that 
island  :  but  he  decided  to  let  it  go  as  it  stood.  The  man  he 
had  summoned  was  directed  to  take  it  straightway  and 
deliver  it  to  one  who  would  be  found  at  the  house-door  of 
the  maestro  Rocco  Ricci  :  "  Thus,  like  a  drunken  sentinel," 
said  Luigi,  folding  his  arms,  crossing  his  legs,  and  leaning 
back.     "  Foi'ward,  Matteo,  my  cherab." 

"  All  goes  right  ?"  the  coachman  addressed  Luigi. 

"  As  honey,  as  butter,  as  a  mulberry  leaf  with  a  score  of 
worms  on  it !  The  wine  and  the  bread  and  the  cream- 
cheeses  are  inside,  my  dainty  one,  are  they  ?  She  must  not 
starve,  nor  must  I.  Are  our  hampers  fastened  outside  ? 
Good.  Wesliall  be  among  the  Germans  in  a  day  and  a  night. 
I've  got  the  route,  and  I  pronounce  the  name  of  the  chateau 
very  perfectly—'  Schloss  Sonnenbcrg.'     Do  that  if  you  can." 

The  unpractised  Italian  coachman  declined  to  attempt  it. 
He  and  Luigi  compared  time  by   their   watches.     In  three- 


126        .  VITTORIA. 

quarters  of  an  hour  he  was  to  be  within  hail  of  the  maestro'a 
house.     Thither  Luigi  quietly  returned. 

Beppo's  place  there  was  vacant. 

"  That's  better  than  a  draught  of  Asti,"  said  Luigi, 

The  lighted  windows  of  the  roaestro's  house,  and  the 
piano  striking  corrective  notes,  assured  him  that  the  special 
rehearsal  was  still  going  on  ;  and  as  he  might  now  calculate 
on  two  or  three  minutes  to  spare,  he  threw  back  his  coat- 
collar,  lifted  his  head,  and  distended  his  chest,  apparently  to 
chime  in  with  the  singing,  but  simply  to  listen  to  it.  For 
him,  it  was  imperative  that  he  should  act  the  thing,  in  order 
to  apprehend  and  appreciate  it. 

A  hurried  footing  told  of  the  approach  of  one  whom  ho 
expected. 

"  Luigi !" 

"  Here,  padrone." 

*'  You  have  the  chocolate  ?" 

"  Signoi  Antonio,  I  have  deposited  it  in  the  carriage." 

"  She  is  in  up  there  ?" 

"  I  beheld  her  entering." 

"  Good  ;  that  is  fixed  fact."  The  signer  Antonio  drove  at 
his  moustache  right  and  left.  "  I  give  you,  see,  Italian 
money  and  German  money  :  German  money  in  paper  ;  and  a 
paper  written  out  by  m.e  to  explain  the  value  of  the  German 
paper-money.  Silence,  engine  that  you  are,  and  not  a  man  ! 
I  am  preventive  of  stupidity,  I  am  ?  Do  I  not  know  that, 
hein  ?  Am  I  in  need  of  the  acclamation  of  you,  my  friend  ? 
On  to  the  Chateau  Sonnenberg : — drive  on,  drive  on,  and  one 
who  stops  you,  you  drive  over  him  :  the  gendarmes  in  white 
will  peruse  tJiis  paper,  if  there  is  any  question,  and  will  pass 
you  ,  and  the  cage,  bowing ;  you  hear  ?  It  is  a  pass  ;  the 
military  pass  you  when  you  show  this  paper.  My  good 
friend.  Captain  Weisspriess,  on  the  staff  of  General  Pierson, 
gives  it,  signed,  and  it  is  effectual.  But  you  lose  not  the 
paper :  put  it  away  with  the  paper-money,  quite  safe.  For 
yourself,  this  is  half  your  pay — I  give  you  napoleons  ;  ten. 
Count.  And  now — once  at  the  Chfiteau  Sonnenberg,  I  repeat, 
you  leave  her  in  charge  of  two  persons,  one  a  woman,  at  the 
gate,  and  then  back — friTrr " 

Antonio-Pericles  smacked  on  the  flat  of  his  hand,  and 
sounded  a  rapid  course  of  wheels. 

'*  Back,  and  drop  not  a  crumb  upon  the  road.     You  havo 


AT  THE  MAESTRO'S  DOOE.  127 

yonr  map,     It  is,  after  Roveredo,  straight  up  tho  Adigc,  by 
Bolzano  ....  say  '  Botzen.'  " 

"  '  Botz,'  "  said  Luigi,  submissively. 

" '  Botz '— '  Botz '— ass  !  fool!  double  idiot!  'Botzen!'" 
Antonio-Pericles  corrected  him  furiously,  exclaiming  to  the 
sovereign  skies,  '  Though  I  pay  for  brains,  can  I  get  them  ! 
No  But  make  a  fiasco,  Luigi,  and  not  a  second  ten  for 
you,  my  friend :  and  away,  out  of  my  sight,  show  yourself 
no  more!" 

Luigi  humbly  said  that  he  was  not  the  instrument  of  a 
fiasco. 

Half  spuming  him,  Antonio- Pericles  snarled  an  end  both 
to  his  advices  and  his  prophetic  disgust  of  the  miserable 
tools  furnished  unto  masterly  minds  upon  this  earth.  He 
paced  forward  and  back,  murmuring  in  French,  "  Mon  Dieu  ! 
was  there  ever  such  a  folly  as  in  the  head  of  this  girl  ?  It 
is  her  occasion: — Shall  I  be  a  Star  ?  Shall  I  be  a  Cinder  ? 
It  is  to-morrow  night  her  moment  of  Birth  !  No  ;  she  pre- 
fers to  be  extinguished.  For  what  ?  For  this  thing  she 
calls  her  country.  It  is  infamous.  Tes,  vile  little  cheat ! 
But,  do  you  know  Antonio-Pericles  ?  Not  yet^  I  will 
nourish  you,  I  will  imprison  you :  I  will  have  you  tortured 
by  love,  by  the  very  devil  of  love,  by  the  red-hot  pincers  of 
love,  till  you  scream  a  music,  and  die  to  melt  him  with  your 
voice,  and  kick  your  country  to  the  gutter,  and  know  your 
Italy  for  a  birthplace  and  a  cradle  of  Song,  and  no  more, 
and  enough  !     Bah!" 

Having  thus  delivered  himself  of  the  effervescence  of  his 
internal  agitation,  he  turned  sharply  round  upon  Luigi,  with 
a  military  stamp  of  the  foot  and  shout  of  the  man's  name. 

"  It  is  love  she  wants,"  Antonio- Pericles  resumed  his 
savago  soliloquy.  "  She  wants  to  be  kindled  on  fire.  Too 
much  Government  of  brain ;  not  sufiicient  Insurrection  of 
heart !  There  it  is.  There  it  lies.  But,  little  fool !  you 
shall  find  people  with  arms  and  shots  and  cannon  running 
all  up  and  downa  your  body,  fii-ing  and  crying  out '  Victory 
for  Love!'  till  you  are  beaten,  till  you  gasp  '  Love!  love! 
love ! '  and  then  comes  a  beatific — oh  !  a  heaven  and  a  hell  to 
your  voice.  I  will  pay,"  the  excited  connoisseur  pursued 
more  deliberately — "  I  will  pay  half  my  fortune  to  bring  this 
about.  I  am  fortified,  for  I  know  such  a  voice  was  sent  to  bo 
Bublime."   He  exclaimed  in  an  ecstasy:  "  It  opens  tho  skies  1" 


128  VITTOEIA. 

and  immediately  appended  :  "  It  is  destined  to  suffocate  the 
theatres  !" 

Pausing  as  before  a  splendid  vision :  "  Money — let  it  go 
like  dust !  I  have  an  object.  Sandra  Belloni — you  stupid 
Vittoria  Campa ! — I  have  millions  and  the  whole  Austrian 
Government  to  back  me,  and  you  to  be  wilful,  little  rebel ! 
I  could  laugh.  It  is  only  Love  you  want.  Your  voice  is 
now  in  a  marble  chamber.  I  will  put  it  in  a  palace  of  cedar- 
wood.  This  Ammiani  I  let  visit  you  in  the  hope  that  h6 
would  touch  you.  Bah  !  he  is  a  patriot — not  a  man  !  He 
cannot  make  you  wince  and  pine,  and  be  cold  and  be  hot, 
and — Bah !  I  give  a  chance  to  some  one  else  who  is  not  a 
patriot.  He  has  done  mischief  with  the  inflammable  little 
Anna  von  Lenkenstein — I  know  it.  Your  proper  lovers,  you 
women,  are  the  broad,  the  business  lovers,  and  Weisspriess 
is  your  man." 

Antonio-Pericles  glanced  up  at  the  maestro's  windows. 
"  Hark  !  it  is  her  voice,"  he  said,  and  drew  up  his  clenched 
fists  with  rage,  as  if  pumping.  "  Cold  as  ice  !  Not  a  flaw. 
She  is  a  lantern  with  no  light  in  it — crystal,  if  you  like. 
Hark  now  at  Irma,  the  stork-neck.  Aie  !  what  a  long  way 
it  is  from  your  throat  to  your  head,  mademoiselle  Irma ! 
You  were  reared  upon  lemons.  The  split  hair  of  your  mural 
crown  is  not  thinner  than  that  voice  of  yours.  It  is  a 
mockery  to  hear  you ;  but  you  are  good  enough  for  the 
people,  ray  dear,  and  you  do  work,  running  up  and  down 
that  ladder  of  wires  between  your  throat  and  your  head ; — 
you  work,  it  is  true,  you  puss  !  sleek  as  a  puss,  bony  as  a 
puss,  musical  as  a  puss.  But  you  are  good  enough  for  the 
people.     Hola !  " 

This  exclamation  was  addressed  to  a  cavalier  who  was  dis- 
mounting from  his  horse  about  fifty  yards  down  the  street, 
and  who,  giving  the  reins  to  a  mounted  servant,  advanced  to 
meet  the  signer  Antonio. 

'  It  is  you,  Herr  Captain  von  Weisspriess  !  " 

*'  When  he  makes  an  appointment  you  see  him,  as  a  rule, 
my  dear  Pericles,"  returned  the  captain. 

"  You  are  out  of  uniform — good.  We  will  go  up.  Remcm- 
"ber,  you  are  a  connoisseur,  from  Bonn — from  Berlin — from 
Leipsic:  not  of  the  K.K.  army!  Abjure  it,  or  you  make  no 
way  with  this  mad  thing.  You  shall  see  her  and  hear  her, 
and  judge  if  she  is  worth  your  visit  to  Schloss  Sonnenberg 


AT  THE  MAESTRO'S  DOOR.  129 

and  a  short  siege.  Good :  we  go  aloft.  You  bow  to  the 
maestro  respectfully  tAvice,  as  in  duty ;  then  a  third  time,  a3 
from  a  whisper  of  your  soul.  Yanitas,  vanitatis  !  You 
speak  of  the  ut  de  poitrine.     You  remark  :  '  Albrechtsberger 

has  said ,'  and  you  slap  your  head  and  stop.  They  think, 

*  He  is  polite,  and  will  not  quote  a  German  authority  to  us  :  * 
and  they  think,  '  He  will  not  continue  his  quotation ;  in 
truth,  he  scornfully  considers  it  superfluous  to  talk  of  coun- 
terpoint to  us  poor  Italians.'  Your  Christian  name  is 
Johann  ? — -you  are  Herr  Johannes.  Look  at  her  well.  I 
shall  not  expose  you  longer  than  ten  minutes  to  their  obser- 
vation. Frown  meditative ;  the  elbow  propped  and  two 
fingers  in  the  left  cheek ;  and  walk  into  the  room  with  a 
stoop  :  touch  a  note  of  the  piano,  leaning  your  ear  to  it  as  in 
detection  of  five-fifteenths  of  a  shade  of  discord.  Frown  in 
trouble  as  of  a  tooth.  So,  when  you  smile,  it  is  immense 
praise  to  them,  and  easy  for  you." 

The  names  of  the  sisnior  Antonio-Pericles  and  Herr 
Johannes  were  taken  up  to  the  maestro. 

Tormented  with  curiosity,  Luigi  saw  them  enter  the  house. 
The  face  and  the  martial  or  sanguinary  reputation  of  Captain 
Weisspriess  were  not  unknown  to  him.  "  What  has  he  to 
do  with  this  affair  ?  "  thought  Luigi,  and  sauntered  down  to 
the  captain's  servant,  who  accepted  a  cigar  from  him,  but 
was  rendered  incorruptible  by  ignorance  of  his  language.  He 
observed  that  the  horses  were  fresh,  and  were  furnished 
with  saddle-bags  as  for  an  expedition.  What  expedition  ? 
To  serve  as  escort  to  the  carriage  ? — a  nonsensical  idea.  But 
the  discovery  that  an  idea  is  nonsensical  is  not  a  satisfactory 
solution  of  a  difficulty.  Luigi  squatted  on  his  haunches 
beside  the  doorstep,  a  little  under  one  of  the  lower  windows 
of  Rocco  Ricci's  house.  Earlier  than  he  expected,  the  cap- 
tain and  signor  Antonio  came  out,  and  as  soon  as  the  door 
had  closed  behind  them,  the  captain  exclaimed,  '*  I  give  you 
my  hand  on  it,  my  brave  Pericles.  You  have  done  me  many 
services,  but  this  is  finest  of  all.  She's  superb.  She's  a 
nice  little  wild  woman  to  tame.  I  shall  go  to  the  Sonnen- 
borg  immediately.  I  have  only  to  tell  General  Pierson  that 
his  nephew  is  to  be  prevented  from  playing  the  fool,  and  I 
get  leave  at  once,  if  there's  no  active  work." 

"  His  nephew,  Lieutenant  Pierson,  or  Pole — hein  ?"  iuter* 
posed  the  Greek. 

K 


130  VITTORIA. 

"  That's  the  man.  He's  on  the  Marshal's  staff.  He's 
engaged  to  the  Countess  Lena  von  Lenkenstein.  She  has  fire 
enough,  my  Pericles." 

"  The  Countess  Anna,  you  say  ?"  The  Greek  stretched 
forward  his  ear,  and  was  never  so  near  getting  it  vigorously 
cuffed. 

"  Deafness  is  an  unpardonable  offence,  my  dear  Pericles." 

Antonio-Pericles  sniffed,  and  assented,  *'  It  is  the  stupidity 
of  the  ear." 

"  I  said,  the  Countess  Lena." 

"  Von  Lenkenstein ;  but  I  choose  to  be  further  deaf." 

"  To  the  devil,  sir.  Do  you  pretend  to  be  angry  ?"  cried 
Weisspriess. 

"  The  devil,  sir,  with  your  recommendation,  is  too  black 
for  me  to  visit  him,"  Antonio-Pericles  rejoined. 

"  By  heaven,  Pericles,  for  less  than  what  you  allow  yourself 
to  say,  I've  sent  men  to  him  howling !  " 

They  faced  one  another,  pulling  at  their  moustachios. 
Weisspriess  laughed. 

"  You're  not  a  fighting  man,  Pericles." 

The  Greek  nodded  affably.  "  One  is  in  my  way,  I  have 
him  put  out  of  my  way.     It  is  easiest." 

"  Ah  !  easiest,  is  it  ?"  Captain  Weisspriess  '  frowned  medi- 
cative '  over  this  remarkable  statement  of  a  system.  "  Well, 
it  certainly  saves  trouble.  Besides,  my  good  Pericles,  none 
but  an  ass  would  quarrel  with  you.  I  was  observing  that 
General  Pierson  wants  his  nephew  to  marry  the  Countess 
Lena  immediately ;  and  if,  as  you  tell  me,  this  girl  Belloni, 
who  is  called  la  Vittoria — the  precious  little  woman  ! — has 
such  power  over  him,  it's  quite  as  well,  from  the  General's 
point  of  view,  that  she  should  be  out  of  the  way  at  Sonnen- 
berg.  I  have  my  footing  at  the  Duchess  of  Graatli's.  I 
believe  she  hopes  that  I  shall  some  day  challenge  and  kill  her 
husband ;  and  as  I  am  supposed  to  have  saved  Major  de 
Pja'mont's  life,  I  am  also  an  object  of  present  gi-atitude.  Do 
you  imagine  that  your  little  brown-eyed  Belloni  scented  one 
of  her  enemies  in  me  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  of  imagination,"  the  signer  Antonio 
observed  frigidly. 

"  Till  we  meet !"  Captain  Weisspriess  kissed  his  fingers, 
half  as  up  toward  the  windows,  and  half  to  the  Greek. 
"  Save  me  from  having  to  teach  love  to  your  Irma !" 


AT  THE  MAESTEO'S  DOOR.  131 

He  ran  to  join  his  servant. 

Luigi  had  heard  much  of  the  conversation,  as  well  as  the 
last  sentence. 

"  It  shall  be  to  la  Irnia  if  it  is  to  anybody,"  Luigi 
muttered. 

"  Let  Weisspriess — he  will  not  awake  love  in  her — let  him 
kindle  hate,  it  will  do,"  said  the  signor  Antonio.  "  She  has 
seen  him,  and  if  he  meets  her  on  the  route  to  Meran,  she  will 
think  it  her  fascination." 

Looking  at  his  watch  and  at  the  lighted  windows,  he 
repeated  his  special  injunctions  to  Luigi.  "  It  is  near  the 
time.  I  go  to  sleep.  I  am  getting  old:  I  grow  nervous. 
Ten — twenty  in  addition,  you  shall  have,  if  all  is  done  right. 
Your  weekly  pay  runs  on.  Twenty — you  shall  have  thirty  I 
Thirty  napoleons  additional !" 

Ten  fingers  were  flashed  thrice. 

Luigi  gave  a  jump.     "  Padrone,  they  are  mine." 

"  Animal,  that  shake  your  belly-bag  and  brain-box,  stand  !'* 
cried  the  Greek,  who  desired  to  see  Luigi  standing  firm  that 
he  might  inspire  himself  with  confidence  in  his  integrity. 
When  Luigi's  posture  had  satisfied  him,  he  turned  and  went 
off  at  great  strides. 

"  He  does  pay,"  Luigi  reflected,  seeing  that  immense  virtue 
in  his  patron.  "  Yes,  he  pays  ;  but  what  is  he  about  ?  It 
is  this  question  for  me — '  Do  I  serve  my  hand  ?  or.  Do  I  serve 
my  heart  ?'  My  hand  takes  the  money,  and  it  is  not  German 
money.  My  heart  gives  the  affection,  and  the  signorina  has 
my  heart.  She  reached  me  that  cigarette  on  the  Motterone 
like  the  Madonna  :  it  is  nevei^to  be  forgotten  !  I  serve  my 
heart !  Now,  Beppo,  you  may  come ;  come  quick  for  her. 
I  see  the  carriage,  and  there  are  three  stout  fellows  in  it  who 
could  trip  and  muzzle  you  at  a  signal  from  me  before  you 
could  count  the  letters  of  your  fatlier's  baptismal  name.  Oh ! 
but  if  the  signorina  disobeys  me  and  comes  out  last ! — tho 
siomor  Antonio  will  ask  the  maestro,  who  will  say,  '  Yes,  la 
Vittoria  was  here  with  me  last  of  the  two ;'  and  I  lose  my 
ten,  my  twenty,  my  thirty  napoleons." 

Luigi's  chest  expanded  largely  with  a  melancholy  draught 
of  air. 

The  carriage  meantime  had  become  visible  at  the  head  of 
the  street,  where  it  remained  within  hearing  of  a  whistle. 
One  of  the  Milanese  hired  vehicles  drove  up  to  the  maestro'a 

k2 


1 32  VITTORIA. 

door  shortly  after,  and  Luigi  cursed  it.  His  worst  fears  for 
the  future  of  the  thirty  napoleons  were  confirmed ;  the  door 
opened  and  the  maestro  Rocco  Ricci,  bare-headed  and  in 
his  black-silk  dressing-gown,  led  out  Irma  di  Karski,  by 
some  called  rival  to  la  Vittoria ;  a  tall  Slavic  damsel,  whose 
laughter  was  not  soft  and  smooth,  whose  cheeks  were  bright, 
and  whose  eyes  were  deep  in  the  head  and  dull.  But  '^she 
had  vivacity  both  of  lips  and  shoulders.  The  shoulders 
were  bony ;  the  lips  were  sharp  and  red,  like  winter-berries 
in  the  morning-rime.  Freshness  was  not  absent  from  her 
aspect.  The  critical  objection  was  that  it  seemed  a  plastered 
freshness  and  not  true  bloom ;  or  rather  it  was  a  savage  and 
a  hard,  not  a  sweet  freshness.  Hence  perhaps  the  name 
which  distinguished  her— la  Lazzeruola  (crab-apple) .  It  was 
a  freshness  that  did  not  invite  the  bite;  sour  to  Italian  taste. 

Shewasappajently  in  vast  delight.  "There  will  be  a  perfect 
inundation  to-mori-ow  night  from  Prague  and  Vienna  to  see 
me  even  in  so  miserable  a  part  as  Michiella,"  she  said.  "Here 
I  am  supposed  to  be  a  beginner:  I  am  no  debutante 
there." 

"  I  can  believe  it,  I  can  believe  it,"  responded  Rocco,  bowing 
for  her  speedy  departure. 

"Tou  are  not  satisfied  with  my  singing  of  Michiella's 
score!  Now,  tell  me,  kind,  good,  harsh  old  master!  you 
think  that  Miss  Vittoria  would  sing  it  better.  So  do  I. 
And  I  can  sing  another  part  better.  You  do  not  know  my 
capacities." 

"I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  you  would  not  attempt," 
said  Rocco,  bowing  resignedly. 

"  There  never  was  question  of  my  courage." 

"  Yes,  but  courage,  courage !  away  with  your  courage !" 
Rocco  was  spurred  by  his  personal  grievances  against  her  in 
a  manner  to  make  him  forget  his  desire  to  be  rid  of  her. 
"  Youi'  courage  sets  you  flying  at  once  at  every  fioritura  and 
bravura  passage,  to  subdue,  not  to  learn :  not  to  accomplish, 
but  to  conquer  it.  And  the  ability,  let  me  say,  is  not  in 
proportion  to  the  com-age,  which  is  probably  too  great  to  be 
easily  equalled :  but  you  have  the  opportunity  to  make  your 
part  celebrated  to-morrow  night,  if,  as  you  tell  me,  the 
house  is  to  be  packed  with  Viennese,  and,  signorina,  you  let 
your  hair  down." 

The  hair  of  Irma  di  Karski  was  of  singular  beauty,  and 


AT  TnE  MAESTRO'S  DOOR.  133 

8  >  dear  to  her  that  the  allusion  to  the  triumphant  feature  of 
her  person  passed  off  Rocco's  irony  in  sugar. 

"  Addio !  I  shall  astonish  you  before  many  hours  have 
gone  by,"  she  said ;  and  this  time  they  bowed  together,  and 
the  maestro  tripped  back  hurriedly,  and  shut  his  door. 

Luigi's  astonishment  eclipsed  his  chagrin  when  he  beheld 
tho  lady  step  from  her  place,  bidding  the  driver  move  away 
as  if  he  carried  a  freight,  and  indicating  a  position  for  him 
at  the  end  of  the  street,  with  an  imperative  sway  and  deflec- 
tion of  her  hand.  Luigi  heard  the  clear  thin  sound  of  a  key 
dropped  to  her  from  one  of  the  upper  windows.  She  was 
quick  to  seize  it ;  the  door  opened  stealthily  to  her,  and  she 
passed  out  of  sight  without  casting  a  look  behind.  "  That's 
a  woman  going  to  discover  a  secret,  if  she  can,"  remarked 
the  observer;  meaning  that  he  considered  tlie  sex  bad 
Generals,  save  when  they  have  occasion  to  preserve  them- 
selves secret ;  then  they  look  behind  them  carefully  enough. 
The  situation  was  one  of  stringent  torment  to  a  professional 
and  natural  spy.  Luigi  lost  count  of  minutes  in  his  irritatioa 
at  the  mystery,  which  he  took  as  a  personal  offence.  Some 
suspicion  or  wariness  existed  in  the  lighted  room,  for  the 
maestro  threw  up  a  window,  and  inspected  the  street  to 
right  and  left.  Apparently  satisfied  he  withdi-ew  his  head, 
and  the  window  was  closed. 

In  a  little  while  Vittoria's  voice  rose  audible  out  of  the 
stillness,  though  she  restrained  its  volume. 

Its  effect  upon  Luigi  was  to  make  him  protest  to  her, 
whimpering  with  pathos  as  if  she  heard  and  must  bo 
melted :  "  Signorina !  signorina,  most  dear !  for  charity's 
sake  !  I  am  one  of  you ;  I  am  a  patriot.  Every  man  to  his 
trade,  but  my  heart  is  all  with  you."  And  so  on,  louder  by 
fits,  in  a  running  murmur,  like  one  having  his  conscience 
ransacked,  from  which  he  was  diverted  by  a  side-thought 
of  L'ma  di  Karski,  la  Lazzeruola,  listening,  taking  poison 
in  at  her  ears ;  for  Luigi  had  no  hesitation  in  ascribing  her 
behaviour  to  jealousy.  "  Does  not  that  note  drive  through 
your  bosom,  excellent  lady  ?  I  can  fancy  the  tremble  going 
all  down  your  legs.  You  are  poisoned  with  honey.  How 
you  hate  it !     If  you  only  had  a  dagger !" 

Vittoria  sang  but  for  a  short  space.  Simultaneously  with 
the  cessation  of  her  song  Ammiani  reached  the  door,  but  had 
scarcely  taken  his  stand  tlitn-e  when, catching  sight  of  Luigi,  ho 


134  VITTOKIA. 

crossed  the  street, and recog-nizing  him,  questioned  him  sternly 
as  to  his  business  opposite  the  maestro's  hoase.  Luigi  pointed 
to  a  female  figure  emerging.  "See!  take  her  home,"  he  said. 
Ammiani  released  him  and  crossed  back  hurriedly,  when, 
smiting  his  forehead,  Luigi  cried  in  despair,  "  Thirty  napo- 
leons and  my  professional  reputation  lost !"  He  blew  a 
whistle;  the  carriage  dashed  down  from  the  head  of  the 
street.  While  Ammiani  was  following  the  swiftly-stepping 
figure  in  wonderment  (knowing  it  could  not  be  Vittoria,  yet 
supposing  it  must  be,  without  any  clear  aim  of  his  wits), 
tbe  carriage  drew  up  a  little  in  advance  of  her;  three  men 
— men  of  bulk  and  sinew — jumped  from  it;  one  threw  him- 
self upon  Ammiani,  the  others  grasped  the  affrighted  lady, 
tightening  a  veil  over  her  face,  and  the  carriage-door  shut 
sharpen  her.  Ammiani's  assailant  then  fell  away:  Luigi 
flung  himself  on  the  box  and  shouted,  "  The  signorina  is 
behind  you !"  And  Ammiani  beheld  Vittoria  standing  in 
alarm,  too  joyful  to  know  that  it  was  she.  In  the  spasm  of 
joy  he  kissed  her  hands.  Before  they  could  intercommu- 
nicate intelligibly  the  carriage  was  out  of  their  sight,  going 
at  a  gallop  along  the  eastern  strada  of  the  circumvallation 
of  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XY 

AMMIANI    THROUGH    THE    MIDNTGIIT. 

Ammiani  hurried  Vittoria  out  of  the  street  to  make  safety 
sure.  "  Home,"  she  said,  ashamed  of  her  excitement,  and 
not  daring  to  speak  more  words,  lest  the  heart  in  her  throat 
should  betray  itself.  He  saw  what  the  fright  had  done  for 
her.  Perhaps  also  he  guessed  that  she  was  trying  to  conceal 
her  fancied  cowardice  from  him.  "  I  have  kissed  her  hands," 
he  thought,  and  the  memory  of  it  was  a  song  of  tenderness 
in  his  blood  by  the  way. 

Vittoria's  dwelling-place  was  near  the  Duomo,  in  a  narrow 
thoroughfare  leading  from  the  Duomo  to  the  Piazza  of  La 
Scala,  where  a  confectioner  of  local  fame  conferred  upon  the 
happier  members  of  the  population  most  piquant  bocconi 
and  tartlets,  and  offered  by  placard  to  give  an  emotion  to 


AMMIANI  THEOUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT.  135 

the  nobility,  the  literati,  and  the  epicures  of  Milan,  and  to 
all  foreigners,  if  the  aforesaid  would  adventure  upon  a  trial 
of  his  art.  Meanwhile  he  let  lodgings.  It  was  in  the  house 
of  this  famous  confectioner  Zotti  that  Vittoria  and  her 
mother  had  lived  after  leaving  England  for  Italy.  As 
Vittoria  came  under  the  fretted  shadow  of  the  cathedral, 
she  perceived  her  mother  standing  with  Zotti  at  the  house- 
door,  though  the  night  was  far  advanced.  She  laughed, 
and  walked  less  hurriedly.  Animiani  now  asked  her  if  she 
had  been  alarmed.  "  Not  alarmed  "  she  said,  "  but  a  little 
more  nervous  than  I  thought  I  should  be." 

He  was  spared  from  putting  any  further  question  by  her 
telling  him  that  Luigi,  the  Motterone  spy,  had  in  all  pro- 
bability done  her  a  service  in  turning  one  or  other  of  the 
machinations  of  the  signer  Antonio.  "  My  madman,"  she 
called  this  latter.  "  He  has  got  his  Irma  instead  of  me. 
We  shall  have  to  supply  her  place  to-morrow ;  she  is  tra- 
velling rapidly,  and  on  my  behalf !  I  think,  signer  Carlo, 
you  would  do  well  by  going  to  the  maestro  when  you  leave 
me,  and  telling  him  that  Irma  has  been  caught  into  the 
skies.  Say,  '  Jealous  that  earth  should  possess  such  over- 
powering loveliness,'  or  '  Attracted  in  spite  of  themselves  by 
that  combination  of  genius  and  beauty  which  is  found  united 
nowhere  but  in  Irma,  the  spirits  of  heaven  determined  to 
rob  earth  of  her  Lazzeruola.'  Only  tell  it  to  him  seriously, 
for  my  dear  Rocco  will  have  to  work  with  one  of  the  singers 
all  day,  and  I  ought  to  be  at  hand  by  them  to  help  her,  if  I 
dared  stii-  out.     What  do  you  think  ?" 

Ammiani  pronounced  his  opinion  that  it  would  be  perilous 
for  her  to  sro  abroad. 

"1  shall  in  truth,  I  fear,  have  a  difficulty  in  getting  to 
La  Scala  unseen,"  she  said ;  "  except  that  we  are  cunning 
people  in  our  house.  We  not  only  practise  singing  and 
invent  wonderful  confectionery,  but  we  do  conjuring  tricks. 
We  profess  to  be  able  to  deceive  anybody  whom  we  please  " 

"  Do  the  dupes  enlist  in  a  regiment  ?"  said  Ammiani, 
with  an  intonation  that  professed  his  readiness  to  serve  as 
a  I'ecruit.  His  humour  striking  with  hers,  they  smiled 
together  in  the  bright  fashion  of  young  people  who  can  lose 
themselves  in  a  ray  of  fancy  at  any  season. 

Vittoria  heard  her  mothei-'s  wailful  voice.  "  Twenty  gnatS 
in  one,"  she  said. 


136  VITTOKIA. 

Ammiani  whispered  quickly  to  know  whether  she  had 
decided  for  the  morrow.  She  nodded,  and  ran  np  to  her 
mother,  who  cried — 

"  At  this  hour  !  And  Beppo  has  been  here  after  yon,  and 
he  told  me  I  wrote  for  him,  in  Italian,  when  not  a  word  can 
I  put  to  paper :  I  wouldn't ! — and  you  are  threatened  by 
dreadful  dangers,  he  declares.  His  behaviour  was  mad ; 
they  are  all  mad  over  in  this  country,  I  believe.  I  have  put 
the  last  stitch  to  your  dress.  There  is  a  letter  or  two 
upstairs  for  you.     Always  letters  !" 

"  My  dear  good  Zotti,"  Vittoria  turned  to  the  artist  in 
condiments,  "  you  must  insist  upon  my  mother  going  to  bed 
at  her  proper  time  when  I  am  out." 

"  Signorina,"  rejoined  Zotti,  a  fat  little  round-headed  man, 
with  vivacious  starting  brown  eyes,  "  I  have  only  to  tell  her 
to  do  a  thing — I  pull  a  dog  by  the  collar  j  be  it  said  with 
reverence." 

"  However,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  both  such  good 
friends." 

"  Yes,  signorina,  we  are  good  friends  till  we  quarrel  again. 
I  regret  to  observe  to  you  that  the  respectable  lady  is  in- 
curably suspicious.     Of  me — Zotti  !     Mother  of  heaven  !" 

"It  is  you  that  are  suspicious  of  me,  sii","  retorted  madame. 
"  Of  me,  of  all  persons !  It's  '  tell  me  this,  tell  me  that,' 
all  day  with  you ;  and  because  I  can't  answer,  you  are  angry." 

"  Behold  !  the  signora  speaks  English ;  we  have  quarrelled 
again,"  said  Zotti. 

"  My  mother  thinks  him  a  perfect  web  of  plots,"  Vittoria 
explained  the  case  between  them,  laughing,  to  Ammiani; 
"  and  Zotti  is  persuaded  that  she  is  an  inveterate  schemer. 
They  are  both  entirely  innocent,  only  they  are  both  exces- 
sively timid.     Out  of  that  it  grows." 

The  pair  di-amatized  her  outline  on  the  instant : 

"  '  Did  I  not  see  him  speak  to  an  English  lady,  and  he  will 
not  tell  me  a  word  about  it,  though  she's  my  own  country. 
,,  ^^^^ . 

"  '  Is  it  not  true  that  she  received  two  letters  this  after- 
noon, and  still  does  she  pretend  to  be  ignorant  of  what  is 
going  on  ?'  " 

"  Happily,"  said  Vittoria,  "  my  mother  is  not  a  widow, 
or  these  quai-i'els  might  some  day  end  in  a  fearful  recon- 
ciliation." 


AMMIANI  THKOUGn  THE  MIDNIGHT.  137 

"My  child,"  her  mother  whimpered,  "you  know  what 
these  autumn  nights  are  in  this  country ;  as  sui^e  as  you  live, 
Emilia,  you  will  catch  cold,  and  then  you're  like  a  shop  with 
shiTtters  up  for  the  dead." 

At  the  same  time  Zotti  whispered :  "  Signorina,  I  have 
kept  the  minestra  hot  for  your  supper;  come  in,  come  in. 
And,  little  things,  little  dainty  bits  ! — do  you  live  in  Zotti's 
house  for  nothing  ?  Sweetest  delicacies  that  make  the 
tongue  run  a  stream ! — just  notions  of  a  taste — the  palate 
smacks  and  forgets ;  the  soul  seizes  and  remembers  !" 

"  Oh,  such  seductions  !"  Vittoria  exclaimed. 

"  It  is,"  Zotti  pui-sued  his  idea,  with  fingers  picturesquely 
tAvirling  in  a  spider-like  distension ;  "  it  is  like  the  damned, 
and  they  have  but  a  crumb  of  a  chance  of  Paradise,  and 
down  swoops  St.  Peter  and  has  them  in  the  gates  fast ! 
You  are  worthy  of  all  that  a  man  can  do  for  you,  signorina. 
Let  him  study,  let  him  woi-k,  let  him  invent, — you  are  worthy 
of  all." 

"  I  hope  1  am  not  too  hungry  to  discriminate !  Zotti :  I 
Bee  Monte  Rosa." 

"  Signorina,  you  are  pleased  to  say  so  when  you  are 
famishing.  It  is  because — "  the  enthusiastic  confectioner 
looked  deep  and  oblique,  as  one  who  combined  a  remarkable 
subtlety  of  insight  with  profound  reflection  ;  "  it  is  because 
the  lighter  you  get  the  higher  you  mount ;  up  like  an  eagle 
of  the  peaks  !  But  we'll  give  that  hungry  fellow  a  fall.  A 
dish  of  hot  minestra  shoots  him  dead.  Then,  a  tart  of  pis- 
tachios and  chocolate  and  cream — and  my  head  to  him  who 
shall  reveal  to  me  the  flavouring!" 

"  When  I  wake  in  the  morning,  I  shall  have  lived  a  month 
or  two  in  Arabia,  Zotti.  Tell  me  no  more  ;  I  will  come  in," 
said  Vittoria. 

"  Then,  signorina,  a  little  crisp  filbert-biscuit — a  composi- 
tion !  You  crack  it,  and  a  surprise  !  And  then,  and  then 
'ray  dish  ;  Zotti's  dish,  that  is  not  yet  christened.  Signorina, 
let  Italy  rise  first ;"  th?  great  inventor  of  the  dish  winked 
and  nodded  temperately.  "  Let  her  rise.  A  battle  or  a 
treaty  will  do.  1  have  two  or  three  original  conceptions, 
compositions,  that  only  wait  for  some  brilliant  feat  of  arms, 
or  a  diplomatic  triumph,  and  I  send  them  forth  baptized." 

Vittoria  threw  large  eyes  upon  Amniiani,  and  set  the 
underlids   humorously  quivering.     She    kissed  her  fingers: 


138  viTTorjA. 

"  Addio ;  a  rivcdcrla."  lie  bowed  formally  :  lie  was  startled 
to  find  tlie  golden  thread  of  their  companionship  cut  with 
such  cruel  abruptness.  But  it  was  cut ;  the  door  had  closed 
on  her.  The  moment  it  had  closed  she  passed  into  his 
imagination.  By  what  charm  had  she  allayed  the  fever  of 
his  anxiety?  Her  naturalness  had  perforce  given  him  assur- 
ance that  peace  must  surround  one  in  whom  it  shone  so 
steadily,  and  smiliiig  at  the  thought  of  Zotti's  repast  and 
her  twinkle  of  subdued  humour,  he  walked  away  comforted ; 
which,  for  a  lover  in  the  season  of  peril  means  exalted,  as  in 
a  sudden  conflagration  of  the  dry  stock  of  his  intelligence. 
"  She  must  have  some  great  faith  in  her  heart,"  he  thought, 
no  longer  attributing  his  exclusion  from  it  to  a  lover's 
rivalry,  which  will  show  that  more  than  imagination  was  on 
fii-e  within  him.  For  when  the  soul  of  a  youth  can  be 
heated  above  common  heat,  the  vices  of  passion  shrivel  up 
and  aid  the  purer  flame.  It  was  well  for  Ammiani  that  he 
did  perceive  (dimly  though  it  was  perceived)  the  force  of 
idealistic  inspiration  by  which  Vittoria  was  supported.  He 
saw  it  at  this  one  moment,  and  it  struck  a  light  to  light  him 
in  many  subsequent  perplexities  ;  it  was  something  he  had 
never  seen  before.  He  had  read  Tuscan  j)oetry  to  her  in  old 
Agostino's  rooms  ;  he  had  spoken  of  secret  preparations  for 
the  revolt ;  he  had  declaimed  upon  Italy, — the  poetry  was 
good  though  the  declamation  may  have  been  bad, — but  she 
had  always  been  singularly  irresponsive,  with  a  practical 
turn  for  ciphers.  A  quick  reckoning,  a  sharp  display  of 
figures  in  Italy's  cause,  kindled  her  cheeks  and  took  her 
breath.  Ammiani  now  understood  that  there  lay  an  un- 
spoken depth  in  her,  distinct  from  her  visible  nature. 

He  had  first  an  interview  with  Rocco  Ricci,  whom  he 
prepared  to  replace  Irma. 

His  way  was  then  to  the  office  of  his  Journal,  whei'C  he 
expected  to  be  greeted  by  two  members  of  the  Polizia,  who 
Avould  desire  him  to  march  before  the  central  bureau,  and 
exhibit  proofs  of  articles  and  the  items  of  news  for  inspection, 
for  cori'cction  haply,  and  possibly  for  approval.  There  is  a 
partial  delight  in  the  contemplated  submission  to  an  act  of 
servitude  for  the  last  time.  Ammiani  stejiped  in  with  com- 
bative gaiety,  but  his  stiff  glance  encountered  no  enemy. 
This  astonished  him.  He  turned  back  into  the  street  and 
meditated.     The  Pope's  Mouth  might,  he  thought,  hold  the 


AMMIANI  THROUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT.  139 

key  to  the  riddle.  It  is  not  always  most  comfortable  for  a 
conspirator  to  find  himself  unsuspected  :  he  reads  the  blank 
significantly.  It  looked  ill  that  the  authorities  should  allow 
anything  whatsoever  to  be  printed  on  such  a  morrow  : 
especially  ill,  if  they  were  on  the  alert.  The  neighbourhood 
by  the  Pope's  Mouth  was  desolate  under  dai-k  starlight. 
Ammiani  got  his  fingers  into  the  opening  behind  the  rubbish 
of  bi'ick,  and  tore  them  on  six  teeth  of  a  saw  that  had  been 
fixed  therein.  Those  teeth  were  as  voluble  to  him  as  loud 
tongues.  The  Mouth  was  empty  of  any  shred  of  paper. 
They  meant  that  the  enemy  was  ready  to  bite,  and  that  the 
conspiracy  had  ceased  to  be  active.  He  perceived  that 
a  stripped  ivy-twig,  with  the  leaves  scattered  around  it, 
stretched  at  his  feet.  That  was  another  and  corroborative 
sign,  clearer  to  him  than  printed  capitals.  The  reading  of  it 
declared  that  the  Revolt  had  collapsed.  He  wound  and 
unwound  his  handkerchief  about  his  fingers  mechanically : 
great  curses  were  in  his  thi-oat.  "  I  would  start  for  South 
America  at  dawn,  but  for  her !"  he  said.  The  country  of 
Bolivar  still  had  its  attractions  for  Italian  youth.  For  a 
certain  space  Ammiani's  soul  was  black  with  passion.  He 
was  the  son  of  that  fiery  Paolo  Ammiani  who  had  cast  his 
glove  at  Eugene's  feet,  and  bade  the  viceroy  deliver  it  to  his 
French  master.  (The  General  was  pi'eparing  to  break  his 
sword  on  his  knee  when  Eugene  rushed  up  to  him  and 
kissed  him.)  Carlo  was  of  this  blood.  Englishmen  will 
hardly  forgive  him  for  having  tears  in  his  eyes,  but  Italians 
follow  the  Greek  classical  prescription  for  the  emotions, 
while  we  take  example  by  the  Roman.  There  is  no  sneer 
due  from  us.  He  sobbed.  It  seemed  that  a  country  was 
lost. 

Ammiani  had  moved  away  slowly :  he  was  accidentally 
the  witness  of  a  curious  scene.  There  came  into  the  irres'ular 
triangle,  and  walking  up  to  where  the  fruit-stalls  stood  by 
day,  a  woman  and  a  man.  The  man  was  an  Austi-ian  soldier. 
It  was  an  Italian  woman  by  his  side.  The  sight  of  the 
couple  was  just  then  like  an  incestuous  horror  to  Ammiani. 
She  led  the  soldier  straight  up  to  the  Mouth,  directing  his 
liand  to  it,  and,  what  was  far  more  wonderful,  directing  it  so 
that  he  drew  forth  a  packet  of  pai)ers  from  where  Ammiani 
}i;id  found  none.  Ammiani  could  see  the  light  of  them  in 
liis    hand.     The    Austrian    snatched    an    embrace    and    ran. 


140  VITTORIA. 

Ammiani  was  moving^  over  to  her  to  seize  and  denonnce  the 
traitress,  when  he  beheld  another  figure  like  an  apparition 
by  her  side  ;  but  this  one  was  not  a  whitecoat.  Had  it  risen 
from  the  earth  ?  It  was  earthy,  for  a  cloud  of  dust  was 
about  it,  and  the  woman  gave  a  stifled  scream.  "  Barto ! 
Barto  !"  she  cried,  pressing  upon  her  eyelids.  A  strong 
husky  laugh  came  from  him.  He  tapped  her  shoulder 
heartily,  and  his  "  Ha  !  ha !"  rang  in  the  night  air. 

"  You  never  trust  me,"  she  whimpei-ed  from  shaken 
nerves. 

He  called  her,  "  Brave  little  woman  !  rare  girl  1" 
"  But  you  never  trust  me  !" 
"  Do  I  not  lay  traps  to  praise  you  ?" 
*'  You  make  a  woman  try  to  deceive  you." 
"  If  she  could  !     If  only  she  could !" 
Ammiani  was  up  with  them. 

"  You  are  Barto  Rizzo,"  he  spoke,  half  leaning  over  the 
man  in  his  impetuosity. 

Barto  stole  a  defensive  rearward  step.  The  thin  light  of 
dawn  had  in  a  moment  divided  the  extreme  starry  darkness, 
and  Ammiani,  who  knew  his  face,  had  not  to  ask  a  second 
time.  It  was  scored  by  a  recent  sword-cut.  He  glanced  at 
the  woman :  saw  that  she  was  handsome.  It  was  enough ; 
he  knew  she  must  be  Barto's  wife,  and,  if  not  more  cunning 
than  Barto,  his  accomplice,  his  instrument,  his  slave. 

"  Five  minutes  ago  I  would  have  sworn  you  were  a 
traitress,"  he  said  to  her. 

She  was  expressionless,  as  if  she  had  heard  nothing; 
which  fact,  consioering  that  she  was  very  handsome,  seemed 
remarkable  to  the  young  man.  Youth  will  not  believe  that 
stupidity  and  beauty  can  go  together. 

"  She  is  the  favourite  pupil  of  Bartolommeo  Rizzo,  signer 
Carlo  Ammiani,"  quoth  Barto,  having  quite  regained  his 
composure.  "  She  is  my  pretty  puppet-patriot.  I  am  not 
in  the  habit  of  exhibiting  her;  but  since  you  see  her,  there 
she  is." 

Barto  had  fallen  into  the  Southern  habit  of  assuming  ease 
in  quasi-rhetoiical  sentences,  but  with  wary  eyes  over  them. 
The  peculiar,  contracting,  owl-like  twinkle  defied  Ammiani's 
efforts  to  penetrate  liis  look  ;  so  he  took  counsel  of  his  anger, 
and  spoke  bluntly. 

"  She  does  your  work  ?" 


AMMIANI  THROUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT.  141 

"  Much  of  it,  signer  Carlo :  as  the  bullet  does  the  work  of 
the  rifle." 

"  Beast !  was  it  your  wife  who  pinned  the  butterfly  to  the 
signorina  Vittoria's  dress  P" 

"  Signer  Carlo  Ammiani,  you  are  the  son  of  Paolo,  the 
General :  you  call  nae  beast  ?  I  have  dandled  you  in  my 
arms,  my  little  lad,  while  the  bands  played  '  There's  yet  a 
heart  in  Italy  !'  Do  you  remember  it  ?"  Barto  sang  out 
half-a-dozen  bars.  ''  You  call  me  beast  ?  I'm  the  one  man 
in  Milan  who  can  sing  you  that." 

"  Beast  or  man,  devil  or  whatever  you  are  !"  cried 
Ammiani,  feeling  nevertheless  oddly  unnerved,  "  you  have 
committed  a  shameful  ofl^ence :  you,  or  the  woman,  your 
wife,  who  serves  you,  as  I  see.  You  have  thwarted  the 
best  of  plots ;  you  have  dared  to  act  in  defiance  of  your 
Chief " 

"  Eyes  to  him  !"  Barto  interposed,  touching  over  his  eye- 
balls. 

"  And  you  have  thrown  your  accursed  stupid  suspicions 
on  the  signorina  Vittoria.  You  are  a  mad  fool.  If  I  had 
the  power,  I  would  order  you  to  be  shot  at  five  this  morn- 
ing ;  and  that's  the  last  rising  of  the  light  you  should 
behold.  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  Don't  turn  your  hellish  eyes 
in  upon  one  another,  but  answer  at  once  !  Why  did  you  do 
it  P" 

"  The  signorina  Vittoria,"  returned  Barto — his  articula- 
tion came  forth  serpent-like — "  she  is  not  a  spy,  you  think. 
She  has  been  in  England :  I  have  been  in  England.  She 
writes ;  I  can  read.  She  is  a  thing  of  whims.  Shall  she 
hold  the  goblet  of  Italy  in  her  hand  till  it  overflows  ?  She 
writes  love-letters  to  an  English  whitecoat.  I  have  read 
them.  Who  bids  her  write  ?  Her  whim  !  She  warns 
her  friends  not  to  enter  Milan.  She — whose  puppet  is  she  ? 
Not  yours ;  not  mine.  She  is  the  puppet  of  an  English 
Austrian  !  " 

Barto  drew  back,  for  Ammiani  was  advancing. 

"  What  is  it  you  mean  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Ammiani,  still  moving  on  him,  "  I  mean  to 
drag  you  first  before  Count  Medole,  and  next  before  the  sig- 
norina ;  and  you  shall  abjure  your  slander  in  her  presence. 
After  that  I  shall  deal  with  you.  Mark  me!  I  have  you:  I 
am  swifter  on  foot,  and  I  am  stronger.     Come  quietly." 

Barto  smiled  in  grim  contempt. 


142  VITTOKIA. 

"  Keep  your  foot  fast  on  that  stone, — you're  a  prisoner," 
lie  replied,  and  seeing  Ammiani  coining,  "Net  him,  my  sling- 
stone  !  my  serpent!  "  he  signalled  to  his  wife,  who  threw 
herself  right  round  Ammiani  in  a  tortuous  twist  hard  as 
wire-rope.  Stung  with  irritation,  and  a  sense  of  disgi'aco 
and  ridicule  and  pitifulness  in  one,  Ammiani,  after  a 
struggle,  ceased  the  attempt  to  disentwine  her  arms,  and 
dragged  her  clinging  to  him.  He  was  much  struck  by  hear- 
ing her  count  deliberately,  in  her  desperation,  numbers  from 
somewhere  about  twenty  to  one  hundred.  One  hundred  was 
evidently  the  number  she  had  to  complete,  for  when  she  had 
reached  it  she  threw  her  arms  apart.  Barto  was  out  of 
sight.  Ammiani  waved  her  on  to  follow  in  his  steps :  he 
was  sick  of  her  presence,  and  had  the  sensations  of  a  shame- 
faced boy  whom  a  girl  has  kissed.  She  went  without  utter- 
ing a  word. 

The  dawn  had  now  traversed  the  length  of  the  streets,  and 
thrown  open  the  wide  spaces  of  the  city.  Ammiani  found 
himself  singing,  "  There's  yet  a  heart  in  Italy ! "  but  it  was 
hardly  the  song  of  his  own  heart.  He  slept  that  night  on  a 
chair  in  the  private  room  of  his  office,  preferring  not  to  go 
to  his  mother's  house.  "  There's  yet  a  heart  in  Italy  !  "  was 
on  his  lips  w^hen  he  awoke  with  scattered  sensations,  all  of 
which  collected  in  revulsion  against  the  song.  "  There's  a 
very  poor  heart  in  Italy  !  "  he  said,  while  getting  his  person 
into  decent  order;  "it's  like  the  bell  in  the  lunatic's  tower 
between  Venice  and  the  Lido :  it  beats  now  and  then  for 
meals :  hangs  like  a  carrion-lump  in  the  vulture's  beak 
meanwhile  !  " 

These  and  some  other  similar  sentiments,  and  a  heat 
about  the  brows  whenever  he  set  them  frowning  over  what 
Barto  had  communicated  concerning  an  English  Austrian, 
assured  Ammiani  that  he  had  no  proper  command  of  him- 
self :  or  was,  as  the  doctors  would  have  told  him,  bilious.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  must  have  dreamed  of  meeting  the 
dark  and  subtle  Barto  Rizzo  overnight ;  on  realizing  that 
fact  he  could  not  realize  how  the  man  had  escaped  him, 
except  that  when  he  thought  over  it,  he  breathed  deep  and 
shook  his  shoulders.  Th.6  mind  will,  as  you  may  know, 
sometimes  refuse  to  work  when  the  sensations  are  shameful 
and  astonished.  He  despatched  a  messenger  with  a  '  good 
morrow  '  to  his  mother,  and  then  went  to  a  fencing-saloon 


AMMIANI  THKOUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT.  143 

that  was  fitted  up  in  tlie  house  of  Count  Medole,  where, 
among  two  or  three,  there  was  the  ordinary  shrugging  talk 
of  the  colhipse  of  the  projected  outbi-eak,  bittei-  to  hear. 
Luciano  Romara  came  in,  and  Aniiuiani  challenged  him  to 
small-sword  and  broadsword.  Both  being-  ireful  to  boiling 
point,  and  mad  to  strike  at  something,  they  attacked  one 
another  furioiisly,  though  they  were  dear  friends,  and  tho 
helmet-wii-es  and  the  padding  rattled  and  smoked  to  the 
thumps.  For  half  an  hour  they  held  on  to  it,  when,  their 
blood  being  up,  thoj  flashed  upon  the  men  present,  including 
the  count,  crying  shame  to  them  for  letting  a  woman  alone 
be  faithful  to  her  task  that  night.  Tlie  blood  forsook  Count 
Medole's  cheeks,  leaving  its  dead  hue,  as  when  blotting- 
paper  is  laid  on  running-ink.  He  deliberately  took  a  pair  of 
foils,  and  offering  the  handle  of  one  to  Ammiani,  broke 
the  button  off  the  end  of  his  own,  and  stood  to  face  an 
adversary.  Ammiani  followed  the  example :  a  streak  of 
crimson  was  on  his  shirt-sleeve,  and  his  eyes  had  got  their 
hard  black  look,  as  of  the  flint-stone,  before  Romara  in 
amazement  discovered  the  couple  to  be  at  it  in  all  purity  of 
intention,  on  the  sharp  edge  of  the  abyss.  He  knocked  up 
their  weapons  and  stood  between  them,  putting  his  cigarette 
leisurely. 

"  I  fine  you  both,"  he  said. 

He  touched  Ammiani's  sword-arm,  nodded  with  satis- 
faction to  find  that  there  was  no  hurt,  and  cried,  "  You  have 
an  Austrian  out  on  the  gi'ound  by  this  time  to-morrow 
morning.     So,  according  to  the  decree  !  " 

"  Captain  Weisspriess  is  in  the  city,"  was  remarked. 

"  There  are  a  dozen  on  the  list,"  said  little  Pietro  Cardi, 
drawing  out  a  paper. 

"  If  you  are  to  be  doing  nothing  else  to-morrow  morning," 
added  Leone  Rufo,  "  we  may  as  well  march  out  the  whole 
dozen." 

These  two  were  boys  under  twenty. 

"  Shall  it  be  the  first  hit  for  Captain  Weisspriess  ?"  Count 
Medole  said  this  while  handling  a  fresh  and  fairly-buttoned 
foil  to  Ammiani. 

Romara  laughed :  "  You  will  require  to  fence  the  round  of 
Mihm  city,  my  dear  count,  to  win  a  claim  to  Captain  Weiss- 
priess. In  the  first  place,  /  yield  him  to  no  man  who  does 
not  show  himself  a  better  man  than  I.  It's  the  point  upon 
wliich  I  don't  pay  compb'ments." 


144  yiTTORIA. 

Count  Medole  bowed, 

"  But,  if  you  want  occupation,"  added  Luciano,  closing  his 
speech  with  a  merely  interrogative  tone. 

"  I  scarcely  want  that,  as  those  Avho  know  me  will  tell  you," 
said  Medole,  so  humbly,  that  those  t-^Iio  knew  him  felt  that 
he  had  risen  to  his  high  seat  of  intellectual  contempt.  He 
could  indulge  himself,  having  shown  his  courage. 

"  Certainly  not ;  if  you  are  devising  means  of  subsistence 
for  the  widows  and  orphans  of  the  men  who  will  straggle  out 
to  be  slaughtered  to-night,"  said  Luciano  ;  "  you  have  occu- 
pation in  that  case." 

"  I  will  do  my  best  to  provide  for  them," — ^the  count  per- 
sisted in  his  air  of  humility, — "  though  it  is  a  question  with 
some  whether  idiots  should  live."  He  paused  effectively, 
and  sucked  in  a  soft  smile  of  self -approbation  at  the  stroke. 
Then  he  pursued :  "  We  meet  the  day  after  to-morrow.  The 
Pope's  Mouth  is  closed.  We  meet  here  at  nine  in  the  morn- 
ning.  The  next  day  at  eleven  at  Farugino's,  the  barber's,  in 
Monza.  The  day  following  at  Camerlata,  at  eleven  likewise. 
Those  who  attend  will  be  made  aware  of  the  dispositions  for 
the  week,  and  the  day  we  shall  name  for  the  rising.  It  is 
known  to  you  all  that,  without  affixing  a  stigma  on  our  new 
prima-donna,  we  exclude  her  from  any  share  in  this  business. 
All  the  Heads  have  been  warned  that  we  yield  this  night  to 
the  Austrians.  Gentlemen,  I  cannot  be  more  explicit.  I  wish 
that  I  could  please  you  better." 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,"  said  Pietro  Cardi  :  "  but  patience  is 
the  pestilence  ;  I  shall  roam  in  quest  of  adventure.  Another 
quiet  week  is  a  tremendous  trial." 

He  crossed  foils  with  Leone  Rufo,  but  finding  no  stop  to 
the  drawn  "  swish '  of  the  steel,  he  examined  the  end  of  his 
weapon  -with  a  lengthening  visage,  for  it  was  buttonless. 
Ammiani  burst  into  laughter  at  the  spontaneous  boyishness 
in  the  faces  of  the  pair  of  ambitious  lads.  They  both  offered 
him  one  of  the  rapiers  upon  equal  terms.  Count  Medole's 
example  of  intemperate  vanity  was  spoiling  them. 

"  You  know  my  opinion,"  Ammiani  said  to  the  count, 
"  I  told  you  last  night,  and  I  tell  you  again  to-day,  that  Barto 
Rizzo  is  guilty  of  gi-oss  misconduct,  and  that  you  must  plead 
the  same  to  a  sort  of  excusable  treason.  Count  Medole,  you 
cannot  wind  and  unwiad  a  conspitacy  like  a  watch.  Wlio  is 
the  head  of  this  one  ?     It  is  the  man  Barto  Rizzo.     He  took 


AMMIANI  THROUGH  THE  MIDNIGHT.  145 

proceedings  before  he  got  you  to  sanction  them.     You  may  be 
the  vessel,  but  he  commands,  or  at  least,  he  steers  it." 

The  count  waited  undemonstrativcly  until  Ammiani  had 
come  to  an  end.  "  You  speak,  my  good  Ammiani,  with  an 
energy  that  does  you  credit,"  he  said,  "  considering  that  it  is 
not  in  your  own  interest,  but  another  person's.  Remember, 
I  can  bear  to  have  such  a  word  as  treason  ascribed  to  my 
acts." 

Fresh  visitors,  more  or  less  mixed  in  the  conspiracy,  and 
generally  willing  to  leave  the  management  of  it  to  Count 
Medole,  now  entered  the  saloon.  These  were  Count  Rasati, 
Angelo  Dovili,  a  Piedmontese  General,  a  Tuscan  duke,  and 
one  or  two  aristocratic  notabilities  and  historic  nobodies. 
They  were  hostile  to  the  Chief  whom  Luciano  and  Carlo 
revered  and  obeyed.  The  former  lit  a  cigarette,  and  saying 
to  his  friend,  "  Do  you  breakfast  with  your  mother  ?  I  will 
come  too,"  slipped  his  hand  on  Ammiani's  arm  ;  they  walked 
out  indolently  together,  with  the  smallest  shade  of  an  appear- 
ance of  tolerating  scorn  for  those  whom  they  left  behind. 

"  Medole  has  money  and  rank  and  influence,  and  a  kind  of 
I-don't-know-what  womanishness  that  makes  him  push  like 
a  needle  for  the  lead,  and  he  will  have  the  lead  !  and  when 
he  has  got  the  lead,  there's  the  last  chapter  of  him,"  said 
Luciano.  "His  point  of  ambition  is  the  perch  of  the  weather- 
cock. Why  did  he  set  upon  you,  my  Carlo  ?  I  saw  the  big 
V  running  up  your  forehead  when  you  faced  him.  If  you 
had  finished  him  no  gi'eat  harm  would  have  been  done." 

"  I  saw  him  for  a  short  time  last  night,  and  spoke  to  him 
in  my  father's  style,"  said  Carlo.  "  The  reason  was,  that  he 
defended  Barto  Rizzo  for  putting  the  ring  about  the  signo- 
rina  Vittoria's  name,  and  causing  the  black  buttei-fly  to  bo 
pinned  to  her  dress." 

Luciano's  brows  stood  up. 

"  If  she  sings  to-night,  depend  upon  it  there  will  be  a  dis- 
turbance," he  said.  "  Ther^  may  be  a  rising  in  spite  of 
Medole  and  such  poor  sparks,  who're  afraid  to  drop  on  powder, 
and  twirl  and  dance  till  the  wind  blows  them  out.  And 
mind,  the  chatico  rising  is  commonly  the  luckiest.  If  I  get  a 
command  I  march  to  the  Alps.  We  must  have  the  passes  of 
the  Tyrol.  It  seems  to  me  that  whoever  holds  the  Alps  niiist 
ride  the  Lombard  mare.  You  spring  booted  and  spurred 
into  the  saddle  from  the  Alps." 

I. 


14G  VITTORIA. 

Carlo  was  hurt  by  his  friend's  indiiSerence  to  the  base 
injury  done  to  Vittoria. 

"  I  have  told  Medole  that  she  will  sing-  to-night  in  spite 
of  him,"  he  was  saying,  with  the  intention  of  bringing  round 
some  reproach  upon  Luciano  for  his  want  of  noble  sympathy, 
when  the  crash  of  an  Austrian  regimental  band  was  heard 
coming  up  the  Corso.  It  stirred  him  to  love  his  friend  with 
all  his  warmth.  "  At  any  rate,  for  my  sake,  Luciano,  you 
will  respect  and  uphold  her." 

"  Yes,  while  she's  true,"  said  Luciano,  unsatisfactorily. 

The  regiment,  in  review  uniform,  followed  by  two  pieces 
of  artillery,  passed  by.  Then  came  a  squadron  of  hussars 
and  one  of  Uhlans,  and  another  foot  regiment,  more  artillery, 
fresh  cavalry. 

"  Carlo,  if  three  generations  of  us  pour  out  our  blood  to 
fertilize  Italian  ground,  it's  not  too  much  to  pay  to  chase 
those  drilled  curs."     Luciano  spoke  in  vehement  undertone. 

•'  We'll  breakfast  and  have  a  look  at  them  in  the  Piazza 
d'Armi,  and  show  that  we  Milanese  are  impressed  with  a 
proper  idea  of  their  power,"  said  Carlo,  brightening  as  he 
felt  the  correction  of  his  morbid  lover's  anger  in  Luciano's 
reaching  view  of  their  duties  as  Italian  citizens.  The  heat 
and  whirl  of  the  hoiir  struck  his  head,  for  to-morrow  they 
might  be  wrestling  with  that  living  engine  which  had 
marched  past,  and  surely  all  the  hate  he  could  muster  should 
be  tiTrned  upon  the  outer  enemy.  He  gained  his  mother's 
residence  with  clearer  feelings. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

COUNTESS    AMMIANI. 


Countess  Ammiani  was  a  Venetian  lady  of  a  famous  House, 
the  name  of  which  is  as  a  trumpet  sounding  from  the  inner 
pages  of  the  Kepublic.  Her  face  was  like  a  leaf  torn  from 
an  antique  volume  ;  the  hereditary  features  told  the  story  of 
her  days.  The  face  was  sallow  and  fireless ;  life  had  faded 
like  a  painted  cloth  upon  the  imperishable  moulding.  She 
had  neither  fire  in  her  eyes  nor  colour  on  her  skin.     Tho 


COONTESS  AMMIANI.  147 

thin  close  multitudinoiis  wrinkles  ran  up  accurately  ruled 
from  the  chin  to  the  forehead's  centre,  and  touched  faintly 
once  or  twice  beyond,  as  you  observe  thB  ocean  ripples  run 
in  threads  confused  to  smoothness  within  a  space  of  the  gi'ey 
horizon  sky.  But  the  chin  was  firm,  the  mouth  and  nose 
were  firm,  the  forehead  sat  calmly  above  these  shows  of 
decay.  It  was  a  most  noble  face ;  a  foi'tress  face ;  strong 
and  massive,  and  honourable  in  ruin,  though  stripped  of 
every  flower. 

This  lady  in  her  girlhood  had  been  the  one  lamb  of  the 
family  dedicated  to  heaven.  Paolo,  the  General,  her  lover, 
had  wrenched  her  from  that  fate  to  share  with  him  a  life  of 
turbulent  sorrows  till  she  should  behold  the  blood  upon  his 
grave.  She,  like  Laura  Piaveni,  had  bent  her  head  above  a 
slaughtered  husband,  but,  unlike  Laura,  Marcellina  Ammiani 
had  not  buried  her  heart  with  him.  Her  heart  and  all  her 
energies  had  been  his  while  he  lived  ;  from  the  visage  of  death 
it  turned  to  her  son.  She  had  accepted  the  passion  for  Italy 
from  Paolo ;  she  shared  it  with  Carlo.  Italian  girls  of  that 
period  had  as  little  passion  of  their  own  as  flowers  kept  out 
of  sunlight  have  hues.  She  had  given  her  son  to  her  country 
with  that  intensely  apprehensive  foresight  of  a  mother's  love 
which  runs  quick  as  Eastern  light  from  the  fervour  of  the 
devotion  to  the  remote  realization  of  the  hour  of  the  sacrifice, 
seeing  both  in  one.  Other  forms  of  love,  devotion  in  other 
bosoms,  may  be  deluded,  but  hei'S  will  not  be.  She  sees  the 
sunset  in  the  breast  of  the  springing  dawn.  Often  her  son 
Carlo  stood  a  ghost  in  her  sight.  With  this  haunting  pro 
phetic  vision,  it  was  only  a  mother,  who  was  at  the  same 
tim.e  a  supremely  noble  woman,  that  could  feel  all  human  to 
him  notwithstanding.  Her  heart  beat  thick  and  fast  when 
Carlo  and  Luciano  entered  the  morning- room  wheie  she  sat, 
and  stopped  to  salute  her  in  turn. 

"  Well  ?"  she  said,  without  betraying  anxiety  or  playing 
at  carelessness. 

Carlo  answered,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
die.     I  think  that's  the  language  of  peaceful  men." 

"  Ton  are  to  be  peaceful  men  to-morrow,  my  Carlo  ?" 

"  The  thing  is  in  Count  Medole's  hands,"  said  Luciano ; 
**  and  he  is  constitutionally  of  our  Agostino's  opinion  that 
we  are  bound  to  wait  till  the  Gods  kick  us  into  action  ; 
and,  as  Agostino  says,  Medole  has  raised  himself  upon  our 

l2 


148  VITTOUIA. 

sliouklers  so  as  to  bo  the  more  susceptible  to  their  wishes 
"when  they  blow  a  gale." 

He  informed  her  of  the  momentaiy  thwai'ting  of  the  con- 
spiracy,  and  won  Carlo's  gratitude  by  not  speaking  of  the 
suspicion  which  had  fallen  on  Vittoria. 

"  Medole,"  he  said,  "  has  the  principal  conduct  of  the 
business  in  Milan,  as  you  know,  countess.  Our  Chief  cannot 
be  everywhere  at  once;  so  Medole  undertakes  to  decide  for 
him  here  in  old  Milan.  He  decided  yesterday  afternoon  to 
put  off  our  holiday  for  what  he  calls  a  week.  Checco,  the 
idiot,  in  whom  he  confides,  gave  me  the  paper  signifying  the 
fact  at  four  o'clock.  There  was  no  appeal;  for  we  can  get 
no  place  of  general  meeting  under  Medole's  prudent  manage- 
ment. He  fears  our  being  swallowed  in  a  body  if  we  all 
meet." 

The  news  sent  her  heart  sinking  in  short  throbs  down  to  a 
delicious  rest ;  but  Countess  Ammiani  disdained  to  be  servile 
to  the  pleasure,  even  as  she  had  strengthened  herself  to 
endure  the  shocks  of  pain.  It  was  a  conquered  heart  that 
she  and  every  Venetian  and  Lombard  mother  had  to  carry ; 
one  that  played  its  tune  according  to  its  nature,  shaping  no 
action,  sporting  no  mask.  If  you  know  what  is  meant  by 
that  phrase,  a  conquered  heart,  you  will  at  least  respect 
them  whom  you  call  weak  women  for  having  gone  through 
the  harshest  schooling  which  this  world  can  show  example 
of.  In  such  mothers  Italy  revived.  The  pangs  and  the 
martyrdom  were  theirs.  Fathers  could  march  to  the  field 
or  to  the  grey  glacis  with  their  boys  ;  there  was  no  intoxica- 
tion of  hot  blood  to  cheer  those  who  sat  at  home  watching 
the  rise  and  fall  of  trembling  scales  which  said  life  or  death 
for  their  dearest.  Their  least  shadowy  hope  could  be  but  a 
shrouded  contentment  in  prospect ;  a  shrouded  submission  in 
feeling.  What  bloom  of  hope  was  there  when  Austria  stood 
like  an  iron  wall,  and  their  owti  ones  dashing  against  it  were 
as  little  feeble  waves  that  left  a  red  mark  and  no  more  ? 
But,  duty  to  their  country  had  become  their  religion ;  sacri- 
fice they  accepted  as  their  portion;  when  the  last  stern  evil 
befel  them  they  clad  themselves  in  a  veil  and  walked  upon 
an  earth  they  had  passed  from  for  all  purposes  save  service 
of  hands.  Italy  revived  in  these  mothers.  Their  torture 
was  that  of  the  reanimation  of  her  frame  from  the  death- 
trance. 


COUNTESS  AMMIANI.  149 

Carlo  and  Luciano  fell  hungrily  upon  dishes  of  herb- 
flavoured  cutlets,  and  Neapolitan  maccaroni,  gi'een  fig'S, 
green  and  red  slices  of  melon,  chocolate,  and  a  dry  red 
Florentine  wine.  The  countess  let  them  eat,  and  then  gave 
her  son  a  letter  that  had  been  delivered  at  her  door  an  hour 
back  by  the  confectioner  Zotti.  It  proved  to  be  an  enclosure 
of  a  letter  addressed  to  Yittoria  by  the  Chief.  Genoa  was 
its  superscription.  From  that  place  it  was  forwarded  by 
running  relays  of  volunteer  messengers.  There  were  points 
of  Italy  which  the  Chief  could  reach  four-and  twenty  hours 
in  advance  of  the  Government  with  all  its  aids  and  machinery. 
Vittoria  had  simply  put  her  initials  at  the  foot  of  the  letter. 
Cai'lo  read  it  eagerly  and  cast  it  aside.  It  dealt  in  ideas  and 
abstract  phraseology ;  he  could  get  nothing  of  it  between  his 
impatient  teeth ;  he  was  reduced  to  a  blank  wonder  at  the 
reason  for  her  sending  it  on  to  him.  It  said  indeed — and  so 
far  it  seemed  to  have  a  meaning  for  her : — 

"  No  backward  step.  We  can  bear  to  fall ;  wc  cannot 
afford  to  draw  back." 

And  asfain  : — 

"  Remember  that  these  uprisings  are  the  manifested  pulsa- 
tions of  the  heart  of  your  country,  so  that  none  shall  say  she 
is  a  corpse,  and  knowing  that  she  lives,  none  shall  say  that 
she  deserves  not  freedom.  It  is  the  protest  of  her  immortal 
being  against  her  impious  violator." 

Evidently  the  Chief  had  heard  nothing  of  the  counter- 
stroke  of  Barto  Rizzo,  and  of  Count  Medole's  miserable 
weakness :  but  how,  thought  Carlo,  how  can  a  mind  like 
Vittoria's  find  matter  to  suit  her  in  such  sentences  ?  He 
asked  himself  the  question,  forgetting  that  a  little  time  gone 
by,  while  he  was  aloof  from  the  tumult  and  dreaming  of  it, 
this  airy  cloudy  language,  and  every  symbolism,  had  been 
strong  sustaining  food,  a  vital  atmosphere,  to  him.  He  did 
not  for  the  moment  (though  by  degrees  he  recovered  his  last 
night's  conception  of  her)  un(lei'stan<l  that  among  the  nobler 
order  of  women  there  is,  when  they  plunge  into  strife,  a 
craving  for  idealistic  ti-uths,  which  men  are  apt,  under  the 
heat,  and  hurry  of  their  energies,  to  put  aside  as  stars  that 
are  meant  merely  for  shining. 

His  mother  perused  the  letter — holding  it  out  at  arm's 
length — and  laid  it  by;  Luciano  likewise.  Countess  Am- 
miaui  was  an  aristocrat :  the  tone  and  style  of  the  writing 


150  VITTOEIA. 

were  distasteful  to  her.  She  allowed  her  son's  judgement  of 
the  writer  to  stand  for  her  own,  feeling  that  she  could  sur- 
render little  prejudices  in  favour  of  one  who  appeared  to 
hate  the  Austrians  so  mortally.  On  the  other  hand,  she  de- 
fended Count  Medole.  Her  soul  shrank  at  the  thought  of 
the  revolution  being  yielded  up  to  theorists  and  men  calling 
themselves  men  of  the  people — a  class  of  men  to  whom  Paolo 
her  soldier-husband's  aversion  had  always  been  formidably 
pronounced.  It  was  an  old  and  a  weai-isome  task  for  Carlo 
to  explain  to  her  that  the  times  were  changed  and  the  neces- 
sities of  the  hour  different  since  the  day  when  his  father 
conspired  and  fought  for  freedom.  Yet  he  could  not  gainsay 
her  when  she  urged  that  the  nobles  should  be  elected  to  lead, 
if  they  consented  to  lead ;  for  if  they  did  not  lead,  wei'S  they 
not  excluded  from  the  movement  ? 

"  1  fancy  you  have  defined  their  patriotism,"  said  Carlo. 

"  Nay,  my  son ;  but  you  are  one  of  them." 

"  Indeed,  my  dearest  mother,  that  is  not  what  they  will 
tell  you." 

"  Uecause  you  have  chosen  to  throw  yourself  into  the 
opposite  ranks." 

"  You  perceive  that  you  divide  our  camp,  madame  my 
mother.  For  me  there  is  no  natural  opposition  of  ranks. 
What  are  we  ?  We  are  slaves  :  all  are  slaves.  While  I  am 
a  slave,  shall  I  boast  that  I  am  of  noble  birth  ?  '  Proud  of  a 
coronet  with  gems  of  paste  !'  some  one  writes.  Save  me 
from  that  sort  of  pride  !  I  am  content  to  take  my  patent  of 
nobility  for  good  conduct  in  the  revolution.  Then  I  will  be 
count,  or  marquis,  or  duke ; — I  am  not  a  Republican  pure 
blood  ; — but  not  till  then.     And  in  the  mean  time " 

"  Carlo  is  composing  for  his  newspaper,"  the  countess  said 
to  Luciano. 

"  Those  are  the  leaders  who  can  lead,"  the  latter  replied. 
"  Give  the  men  who  are  born  to  it  the  first  chance.  Old 
Agostino  is  right-^the  people  owe  them  their  vantage 
ground.  But  when  they  have  been  tried  and  they  have 
failed,  decapitate  them.  Medole  looks  upon  revolution  as 
a  description  of  conjuring  trick.  He  shuffles  cards  and 
arranges  them  for  a  solemn  performance,  but  he  refuses  to 
cut  them  if  you  look  too  serious  or  I  look  too  eager ;  for  that 
gives  him  a  suspicion  that  you  know  what  is  going  to  turn  up  ; 
and  his  object  is  above  all  things  to  produce  a  surprise." 


COUNTESS  AMMIANI.  151 

"  You  are  both  of  you  unjust  to  Count  Modole,"  said  the 
countess.     "  He  imperils  more  than  all  of  you." 

"  Magnificent  estates,  it  is  true ;  but  of  head  or  of  heart 
not  quite  so  much  as  some  of  us,"  said  Luciano,  stroking  his 
thick  black  pendent  moustache  and  chintuft.  "  Ah,  pardon 
me ;  yes  !  he  does  imperil  a  finer  cock's  comb.  When  he 
sinks,  and  his  vanity  is  cut  in  two,  Medole  will  bleed  so  as 
to  flood  his  Lombard  flats.  It  will  be  worse  than  death  to 
him." 

Carlo  said :  "  Do  you  know  what  our  Agostino  says  of 
Count  Medole  ?" 

"Oh,  for  ever  Agostino  with  you  young  men!"  the 
countess  exclaimed.     "  I  believe  he  laughs  at  you." 

"  To  be  sure  he  does  :  he  laughs  at  all.  But,  what  he 
says  of  Count  Medole  holds  tiie  truth  of  the  thing,  and  may 
make  you  easier  concerning  the  count's  estates.  He  says 
that  Medole  is  vaccine  matter  which  the  Austrians  apply  to 
this  generation  of  Italians  to  spare  us  the  terrible  disease. 
They  will  or  they  won't  deal  gently  with  Medole,  by-and-by ; 
but  for  the  present  he  will  be  handled  tenderly.  He  is 
useful.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  we  thought  so  too.  And 
now,"  Carlo  stooped  to  her  and  took  her  hand,  "shall  we  see 
you  at  La  Scala  to-night  ?" 

The  countess,  with  her  hands  lying  in  his,  replied :  "  I 
have  received  an  intimation  from  the  authorities  that  my 
box  is  wanted." 

"  So  you  claim  your  right  to  occupy  it !" 

"  That  is  my  very  humble  protest  for  personal  liberty." 

"  Good :  I  shall  be  there,  and  shall  much  enjoy  an  intro- 
duction to  the  gentleman  who  disputes  it  with  you.  Besides, 
motlicr,  if  the  signorina  Vittoria  sings  .  .  .  ." 

Countess  Ammiani's  gaze  fixed  upon  her  son  with  a  level 
steadiness.  His  voice  threatened  to  be  unequal.  All  the 
pleading  force  of  his  eyes  was  thrown  into  it,  as  he  said  : 
"  iShe  will  sing:  and  she  gives  the  signal;  that  is  certain. 
We  may  have  to  rescue  her.  If  I  can  place  her  under  your 
charge,  I  sludl  feel  that  she  is  safe,  and  is  really  jiro- 
tected." 

The  countess  looked  at  Luciano  before  she  answered; 
"  Yes,  Cai-lo,  whatever  I  can  do.  But  you  know  I  have  not 
a  scrap  of  influence." 

"  Let  her  lie  on  your  bosom,  my  mother." 


152  VITTOEIA. 

"  Is  this  to  be  another  Violetta  ?" 

"Her  name  is  Vittoria,"  said  Carlo,  colouriug  deeply.  A 
certain  Violetta  had  been  his  boy's  passion. 

Further  distracting  Austrian  band-music  was  going  by. 
This  time  it  was  a  regiment  of  Italians  in  the  white  and  blue 
uniform.  Carlo  and  Luciano  leaned  over  the  balcony,  smoking, 
and  scanned  the  marching  of  their  fellow-countrymen  in  the 
livery  of  servitude. 

"  They  don't  step  badly,"  said  one  ;  and  the  other,  with  a 
smile  of  melancholy  derision,  said,  "  We  are  all  brothers  !" 

Following  the  Italians  came  a  regiment  of  Hungarian 
grenadiers,  tall,  swart-faced,  and  particularly  light-limbed 
men,  looking  brilliant  in  the  clean  tight  military  array  of 
Austria.  Then  a  squadron  of  blue  hussars,  and  a  Croat 
regiment ;  after  which,  in  the  midst  of  Czech  dragoons  and 
German  Uhlans  and  blue  Magyar  light  horsemen,  with 
General  officers  and  aides  about  him,  the  veteran  Austrian 
Field-Marshal  rode,  his  easy  hand  and  erect  figure  and  good- 
humoured  smile  belying  both  his  age  and  his  reputation 
among  Italians.  Artillery,  and  some  bravely-clad  horse  of 
the  Eastern  fi'ontier,  possibly  Serb,  wound  up  the  procession. 
It  gleamed  down  the  length  of  the  Corso  in  a  blinding  sun- 
light ;  brass  helmets  and  hussar  feathers,  white  and  violet 
surcoats,  green  plumes,  maroon  capes,  bright  steel  scabbards, 
bayonet-points, — as  gallant  a  show  as  some  portentously- 
magnified  summer  field,  flowing  with  the  wind,  might  be ; 
and  over  all  the  banner  of  Austria — the  black  double-headed 
eagle  ramping  on  a  yellow  ground.  This  was  the  flower  of 
iron  meaning  on  such  a  field. 

The  two  young  men  held  their  peace.     Countess  Anuniani 
had  pushed  her  chair  back  into  a  dark  comer  of  the  room 
and  was  sitting  there  when  they  looked  back,  like  a  sombre 
figure  of  black  marble. 


IN  THE  PIAZZA  d'aRMI.  153 

CHAPTER  XVn. 

IN    THE    PIAZZA    d'aEMI. 

Carlo  and  Luciano  followed  the  regiments  to  tlie  Piazza 
d'Armi,  drawn  after  them  by  that  irresistible  attraction  to 
youths  who  have  as  yet  had  no  shroud  of  grief  woven  for 
them — desire  to  observe  the  aspect  of  a  brilliant  foe. 

The  Piazza  d'Ai-mi  was  the  field  of  Mars  of  Milan,  and  an 
Austrian  review  of  arms  there  used  to  be  a  tropical  pageant. 
The  place  was  too  narrow  for  broad  manoeuvres,  or  for  much 
more  than  to  furnish  an  inspection  of  all  arms  to  the  General, 
and  a  display  (with  its  meaning)  to  the  populace.  An 
unusually  large  concourse  of  spectators  lined  the  square, 
like  a  black  border  to  a  vast  bed  of  flowers,  nodding  now 
this  way,  now  that.  Carlo  and  Luciano  passed  among  the 
groups,  presenting  the  perfectly  smooth  faces  of  young  men 
of  fashion,  according  to  the  universal  aristocratic  pattern 
handed  down  to  querulous  mortals  from  Olympus — the 
secret  of  which  is  to  show  a  triumphant  inaction  of  the 
heart  and  the  brain,  that  are  rendered  positively  subservient 
to  elegance  of  limb.  They  knew  the  chances  were  in  favour 
of  their  being  arrested  at  any  instant.  None  of  the  higher 
members  of  the  Milanese  aristocracy  were  visible ;  the  people 
looked  sullen.  Carlo  was  attracted  by  the  tall  figure  of  the 
signor  Antonio-Pericles,  whom  he  beheld  in  converse  with 
the  commandant  of  the  citadel,  out  in  the  square,  among 
,  chatting  and  laughing  General  ofiicers.  At  Carlo's  elbow 
there  came  a  burst  of  English  tongues  ;  he  heard  Vittoria's 
English  name  spoken  with  animation.  "Admire  those 
faces,"  he  said  to  Luciano,  but  the  latter  was  interchanging 
quiet  recognitions  among  various  heads  of  the  crowd ;  a 
language  of  the  eyelids  and  the  eyebrows.  When  he  did 
look  round  he  admired  the  fair  island  faces  with  an  Italian's 
ardour:  "Their  women  are  splendid!"  and  he  no  longer 
puslied  upon  Carlo's  arm  to  make  way  ahead.  In  the 
English  group  were  two  sunny-haired  girls  and  a  blue-eyed 
lady  with  the  famous  English  curls,  full,  and  rounding 
richly.  This  lady  talked  of  her  brother,  and  pointed  him 
out  as  he  rode  down  the  line  in  the  Marshal's  staff.     The 


154  VITTORIA. 

yotuig  officer  indicated  presently  broke  away  and  galloped 
np  to  her,  bending  over  his  horse's  neck  to  join  the  conver- 
sation. Emilia  Belloni's  name  was  mentioned.  He  stared, 
and  appeared  to  insist  upon  a  contrary  statement.  Carlo 
scrntinized  his  features.  While  doing  so  he  was  accosted, 
and  beheld  his  former  adversary  of  the  Motterone,  with 
whom  he  had  yesterday  shaken  hands  in  the  Piazza  of  La 
Scala.  The  ceremony  was  cordially  renewed.  Luciano  un- 
linked his  arm  from  Carlo  and  left  him. 

"  It  appears  that  you  are  mistaken  with  reference  to 
mademoiselle  Belloni,"  said  Captain  Gambier.  "  We  hear 
on  positive  authority  that  she  will  not  appear  at  La  Scala 
to-night.  It's  a  disappointment;  though,  from  what  you 
did  me  the  honour  to  hint  to  me,  I  cannot  allow  myself  to 
regret  it." 

Carlo  had  a  passionate  inward  prompting  to  trust  this 
Englishman  with  the  secret.  It  was  a  weakness  that  he 
checked.  When  one  really  takes  to  foreigners,  there  is  a 
peculiar  impulse  (I  speak  of  the  people  who  are  accessible  to 
impulse)  to  make  brothers  of  them.  He  bowed,  and  said, 
"  She  does  not  appear  ?" 

"  She  has  in  fact  quitted  Milan.  ITot  willingly.  I  would 
have  stopped  the  business  if  I  had  known  anything  of  it ; 
but  she  is  better  out  of  the  way,  and  will  be  carefully  looked 
after,  where  she  is.     By  this  time  she  is  in  the  Tyrol." 

"  And  where  ?"  asked  Carlo,  with  friendly  interest. 

"  At  a  schloss  near  Meran.  Or  she  will  be  there  in  a  very 
few  hours.  I  feared — I  may  inform  you  that  we  were  very 
good  friends  in  England — I  feared  that  when  she  once  came 
to  Italy  she  would  get  into  political  scrapes.  I  dare  say  you  ^ 
agree  with  me  that  women  have  nothing  to  do  with  politics. 
Observe :  you  see  the  lady  who  is  speaking  to  the  Austrian 
officer  ? — he  is  her  brother.  Like  mademoiselle  Belloni,  he 
has  adopted  a  fresh  name;  it's  the  name  of  his  uncle,  a 
General  Pierson  in  the  Austrian  service.  I  knew  him  in 
England :  he  has  been  in  our  service.  Mademoiselle  Belloni 
lived  with  his  sisters  for  some  years — two  or  three.  As  you 
may  suppose,  they  are  all  anxious  to  see  her.  Shall  I  intro- 
duce you  ?  They  will  be  glad  to  know  one  of  her  Italian 
friends." 

Carlo  hesitated;  he  longed  to  hear  those  ladies  talk  of 
Vittoria.     "  Do  they  speak  French  ?" 


IN  THE  PIAZZA  D'ARMI.  155 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes.  That  is,  as  we  luckless  Ent^lish  people 
speak  it.  Perhaps  you  will  more  easily  pardon  their  seminary 
Italian.  "  See  there,"  Captain  Gambier  pointed  at  some 
trotting  squadrons;  "these  Austrians  have  certainly  a 
matchless  cavalry.  The  artillery  seems  good.  The  infantry 
are  fine  men — very  fine  men.  They  have  a  '  vroodeny ' 
movement ;  but  that's  in  the  nature  of  the  case  :  tremendous 
discipline  alone  gives  homogenity  to  all  those  nationalities. 
Somehow  they  g-et  beaten.  I  doubt  whether  anything  will 
beat  their  cavalry." 

"  They  are  useless  in  street-fighting,"  said  Carlo. 

"  Oh,  street-fighting  !"  Captain  Gambier  vented  a  soldier's 
disgust  at  the  notion.  "They're  not  in  Paris.  Will  you 
step  forward  ?" 

Just  then  the  tall  Greek  approached  the  party  of  English. 
The  introduction  was  delayed. 

He  was  addressed  by  the  fair  lady,  in  the  island  tongue, 
as  "  Mr.  Pericles."  She  thanked  him  for  his  extreme  conde- 
scension in  deigning  to  notice  them.  But  whatever  his 
condescension  had  been,  it  did  not  extend  to  an  admitted 
acquaintance  with  the  poor  speech  of  the  land  of  fogs.  An 
exhibition  of  aching  deafness  was  presented  to  her  so  reso- 
lutely, that  at  last  she  faltei-ed,  "  What !  have  you  forgotten 
English,  Mr.  Pericles  ?     You  spoke  it  the  other  day." 

"  It  is  ze  language  of  necessity — of  commerce,"  he  replied. 

"  But,  surely,  Mr.  Pericles,  you  dare  not  presume  to  tell 
me  you  choose  to  be  ignorant  of  it  whenever  you  please  ?" 

"  I  do  not  take  grits  into  ze  teeth,  madame  ;  no  more." 

"  But  you  speak  it  perfectly." 

"  Perfect  it  may  be,  for  ze  transactions  of  commerce.  I 
wish  to  keep  my  teez." 

"  Alas  !"  said  the  lady,  compelled,  "  I  must  endeavour  to 
swim  in  French." 

"  At  your  service,  madame,"  quoth  the  Greek,  with  an 
immediate  doubling  of  the  length  of  his  body. 

Carlo  heard  little  more  than  he  knew  ;  but  the  confirma- 
tion of  what  we  know  will  sometimes  instigate  us  like  fresh 
intelligence,  and  the  lover's  heart  was  quick  to  apprehend 
far  more  than  he  knew  in  one  direction.  He  divined  instan- 
taneously that  the  English- Austrian  spoken  of  by  Barto 
llizzo  was  the  officer  sitting  on  horseback  within  half  a  dozen 
yards  of  him.     The   certainty  of   the  thought  cramped  his 


156  VITTORIA. 

muscles,  for  tne  rest,  it  became  clear  to  him  that  the 
attempt  of  the  millionaire  connoisseur  to  carry  off  Vittoria 
had  received  the  tacit  sanction  of  the  Austrian  authorities ; 
for  reasons  quite  explicable,  Mr.  Pericles,  as  the  English 
lady  called  him,  distinctly  hinted  it,  while  affirming  with 
vehement  self- laudation  that  his  scheme  had  succeeded  for 
the  vindication  of  Art. 

"  The  opera  you  will  hear  this  night,"  he  said,  "  will  bo 
hissed.  You  will  hear  a  chorus  of  screech-owls  to  each 
song  of  that  poor  Irma,  whom  the  Italian  people  call  '  crab- 
apple.'  Well;  she  pleases  German  ears,  and  if  they  can 
support  her,  it  is  well.  But  La  Vittoria — your  Belloni — 
you  will  not  hear ;  and  why  ?  She  has  been  false  to  her 
Art,  false !  She  has  become  a  little  devil  in  politics.  It  is 
a  Guy  Fawkes  femelle!  She  has  been  guilty  of  the  immense 
crime  of  ingratitude.  She  is  dismissed  to  study,  to  peni- 
tence, and  to  the  society  of  her  old  friends,  if  they  will  visit 
her." 

"  Of  course  we  will,"  said  the  English  lady ;  "  either 
before  or  after  our  visit  to  Venice — delicious  Venice!" 

"  Which  you  have  not  seen — hein  ?"  Mr.  Pericles  snarled  ; 
"  and  have  not  smelt.  There  i>  no  music  in  Venice  !  But 
you  have  nothing  but  street  tinkle- tinkle !  A  place  to  live 
in  !  mon  Dieu !" 

The  lady  smiled.  "  My  husband  insists  upon  trying  the 
baths  of  Bormio,  and  then  we  are  to  go  over  a  pass  for  him 
to  try  the  grape-cure  at  Meran.  If  I  can  get  him  to  promise 
me  one  whole  year  in  Italy,  our  visit  to  Venice  may  be 
deferred.  Our  doctor,  monsieur,  indicates  our  route.  If 
my  brother  can  get  leave  of  absence,  we  shall  go  to  Bormio 
and  to  Meran  with  him.  He  is  naturally  astonished  that 
Emilia  refused  to  see  him  ;  and  she  refused  to  see  us  too ! 
She  wrote  a  letter,  dated  from  the  Conservatorio  to  him, — he 
had  it  in  his  saddle-bag,  and  was  robbed  of  it  and  other 
precious  documents,  when  the  wretched,  odious  people  set 
upon  him  in  Verona — poor  boy  !  She  said  in  the  letter  that 
she  would  see  him  in  a  few  days  after  the  fifteenth,  which 
is  to-day." 

"  Ah  !  a  few  days  after  the  fifteenth,  which  is  to-day," 
Mr.  Pericles  repeated.  "  I  saw  you  but  the  day  before 
yesterday,  madame,  or  I  could  have  brought  you  together. 
She  is  now  away — off —out  of  sight — the  perfide  !     Ah  !  false 


IN  THE  PIAZZA  D'AEMI.  157 

that  she  is  ;  speak  not  of  her.  You  remember  her  ib  England. 
There  it  was  trouble,  trouble ;  but  liei-e,  we  are  a  pot  on  a 
fire  with  her ;  speak  not  of  her.  She  has  used  nie  ill, 
madame.     I  am  sick." 

His  violent  gesticulation  drooped.  In  a  temporary  aban- 
donment to  chagrin,  he  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  forehead, 
unwilling  or  heedless  of  the  mild  ironical  mouthing  of  the 
ladies,  and  looked  about ;  for  Carlo  had  made  a  movement 
to  retire, — he  had  heard  enough  for  discomfort. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  Ammiani,  the  youngest  editor  in  Europe  ! 
how  goes  it  with  you  ?"  the  Greek  called  out  with  revived 
affability. 

Captain  Gambler  perceived  that  it  was  time  to  present 
his  Italian  acquaintance  to  the  ladies  by  name,  as  a  friend 
of  mademoiselle  Belloni. 

"  My  most  dear  Ammiani,"  Antonio-Pericles  resumed  ;  he 
barely  attempted  to  conceal  his  acrid  delight  in  casting  a 
mysterious  shadow  of  coming  vexation  over  the  youth  ;  "I 
am  afraid  you  will  not  like  the  opera  Camilla,  or  perhaps 
it  is  the  Camilla  you  will  not  like.  But,  shoulder  arms, 
march !"  (a  foot  regiment  in  motion  suggested  the  form  of 
the  recommendation)  "  what  is  not  for  to-day  may  be  for 
to-morrow.  Let  us  wait.  I  think,  my  Ammiani,  you  are 
to  have  a  lemon  and  not  an  orange.  Never  mind.  Let  us 
wait." 

Carlo  got  his  forehead  into  a  show  of  smoothness,  and 
said,  "  Suppose,  my  dear  signor  Antonio,  the  prophet  of  dark 
things  were  to  say  to  himself,  '  Let  us  wait  ?'  " 

"  Hein — it  is  deep."  Antonio- Pericles  affected  to  sound 
the  sentence,  eye  upon  earth,  as  a  sparrow  spies  worm  or 
crumb.  "  Permit  me,"  he  added  rapidly  ;  an  idea  had  struck 
him  from  his  malicious  reserve  stores, — "  Here  is  Lieutenant 
Pierson,  of  the  staff  of  the  Field-Marshal  of  Austria,  un- 
attached, an  old  friend  of  mademoiselle  Emilia  Belloni, — 
permit  me, — here  is  Count  Ammiani,  of  the  Lombardia 
Milanese  journal,  a  new  friend  of  the  signorina  Vittoria 
Campa — mademoiselle  Belloni — the  signorina  Campa — it  is 
the  same  person,  messieurs ;  permit  me  to  introduce  you," 

Antonio-Pericles  waved  his  arm  between  the  two  young 
men. 

Their  plain  perplexity  caused  him  to  dash  his  fingers  down 
each  side  of  his  mou.stachios  in  tugs  of  enjoyment. 


153  VITTORIA. 

For  Lieutenant  Pierson,  who  displayed  a  certain  readi- 
ness to  bow,  had  caught  a  sight  of  the  repellent  stare  on 
Ammiani's  face ;  a  still  and  fiat  look,  not  aggressive,  yet 
anything  but  inviting  ;  like  a  shield. 

Nevertheless,  the  lieutenant's  head  produced  a  stiff  nod. 
Carlo's  did  not  respond ;  but  he  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed 
humbly  in  retirement  to  the  ladies. 

Captain  Gambier  stepped  aside  with  him. 

"  Infoi'm  Lieutenant  Pierson,  I  beg  you,"  said  Ammiani, 
"that  I  am  at  his  orders,  if  he  should  consider  that  I  have 
insulted  him." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Gambier ;  "  only,  you  know,  it's 
impossible  for  me  to  guess  what  is  the  matter ;  and  I  don't 
think  he  knows." 

Luciano  happened  to  be  coming  near.  Carlo  went  up  to 
him,  and  stood  talking  for  half  a  minute.  He  then  retarned 
to  Captain  Gambier,  and  said,  "  I  put  myself  in  the  hands  of 
a  man  of  honour.  You  are  aware  that  Italian  gentlemen  are 
not  on  terms  with  Austrian  officers.  If  I  am  seen  exchang- 
ing salutes  with  any  one  of  them,  I  offend  my  countrymen ; 
and  they  have  enough  to  bear  already." 

Perceiving  that  there  was  more  in  the  background,  Gam- 
bier simply  bowed.  He  had  heard  of  Italian  gentlemen 
incurring  the  suspicion  of  their  fellows  by  merely  being  seen 
in  proximity  to  an  Austrian  officer. 

As  they  were  parting.  Carlo  said  to  him,  with  a  very 
direct  meaning  in  his  eyes,  "  Go  to  the  opera  to-night." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  the  Englishman  answered,  and 
digested  the  look  and  the  recommendation  subsequently. 

Lieutenant  Pierson  had  ridden  off.  The  wai--machine  was 
in  motion  from  end  to  end:  the  field  of  flowers  was  a 
streaming  flood  ;  regiment  by  regiment,  the  crash  of  bands 
went  by.  Outwardly  the  Italians  conducted  themselves  with 
the  air  of  ordinary  heedless  citizens,  in  whose  bosoms  the 
music  set  no  hell-broth  boiling.  Patrician  and  plebeian, 
they  were  chiefly  boys ;  though  here  and  there  a  middle- 
aged  workman  cast  a  look  of  intelligence  upon  Carlo  and 
Luciano,  when  these  two  passed  along  the  crowd.  A  gloom 
of  hoarded  hatred  was  visible  in  the  mass  of  faces,  ready  to 
spring  fierily.  Arms  were  in  the  city.  With  hatred  to 
prompt  the  blow  ;  with  arms  to  strike ;  so  much  dishonour 
to  avenge  ;  we  need  not  wonder  that  these  youths  beheld 


IN  THE  PIAZZA  d'aEMI.  159 

ihe  bit  of  liberty  in  prospect  magnified  by  their  mighty 
obfuscating  ardour,  like  a  lantern  in  a  fog.  Reason  did  not 
act.  They  were  in  such  a  state  when  just  to  say  "Italia! 
Italia !"  gave  them  nerve  to  match  an  athletes  So,  the 
parading  of  Austria,  the  towering  athlete,  failed  of  its 
complete  lesson  of  intimidation,  and  only  ruffled  the  surface 
of  insurgent  hearts.  It  seemed,  and  it  was,  an  insult  to  tho 
trodden  people,  who  read  it  as  a  lesson  for  cravens :  their 
instinct  commonly  hits  the  bell.  They  felt  that  a  secure 
supremacy  would  not  have  pai-aded  itself :  so  they  divined 
indistinctly  that  there  was  weakness  somewhere  in  the 
councils  of  the  enemy.  When  the  show  had  vanished,  their 
spirits  hung  pausing,  like  the  hollow  air  emptied  of  big 
sound,  and  reacted.  Austria  had  gained  little  more  by  her 
display  than  the  conscientious  satisfaction  of  the  pedagogue 
who  lifts  the  rod  to  advise  intending  juvenile  culprits  how 
richly  it  can  be  merited  and  how  poor  will  be  their  future 
grounds  of  complaint.  But  before  Austria  herself  had  been 
taught  a  lesson  she  conceived  that  she  had  but  one  man  and 
his  feeble  instruments,  and  occasional  frenzies,  opposed  to 
her, — him  whom  we  saw  on  the  Motterone, — which  was 
ceasing  to  be  true  ;  though  it  was  true  that  the  whole  popular 
movement  flowed  from  that  one  man.  She  observed  travel- 
ling sparks  in  the  embers  of  Italy,  and  crushed  them  under 
her  heel,  without  reflecting  that  a  vital  heat  must  be  gather- 
ing where  the  spots  of  fire  run  with  such  a  swiftness.  It 
was  her  belief  that  if  she  could  seize  that  one  man,  whom 
many  of  the  younger  nobles  and  all  the  people  acknowledged 
as  their  Chief — for  he  stood  then  without  a  rival  in  his  task 
— she  would  have  the  neck  of  conspiracy  in  her  angry  gi-asp. 
Had  she  caught  him,  the  conspiracy  for  Italian  fret^dom 
would  not  have  crowed  for  many  long  seasons ;  the  torch 
would  have  been  ready,  but  not  the  magazine.  He  prepared 
it ;  it  was  he  who  preached  to  the  Italians  that  opportunity 
is  a  mocking  devil  when  we  look  for  it  to  be  revealed ;  or,  in 
other  words,  wait  for  chance;  as  it  is  God's  angel  when  it  is 
created  within  us,  the  ripe  fruit  of  virtue  and  devotion.  He 
cried  out  to  Italians  to  wait  for  no  inspiration  but  their  own ; 
that  they  should  never  subdue  their  minds  to  follow  any  alien 
exam])le  ;  nor  let  a  foreign  city  of  fire  bo  their  beacon. 
Watching  over  his  Italy ;  her  wrist  in  his  meditative  clasp 
year  by  year ;  he  stood  like  a  mystic  leech  by  the  couch  of  a 


160  VITTORIA. 

fair  and  hopeless  frame,  pledged  to  revive  it  by  the  inspired 
assurance,  shared  by  none,  that  life  had  not  forsaken  it.  A 
body  given  over  to  death  and  vultures — he  stood  by  it  in  the 
desert.  Is  it  a  marvel  to  you  that  when  the  carrion- wings 
swooped  low,  and  the  claws  fixed,  and  the  beak  plucked  and 
savoured  its  morsel,  he  raised  his  arm,  and  urged  the  half- 
resuscitated  frame  to  some  vindicating  show  of  existence  ? 
Ai'ise  !  he  said,  even  in  what  appeared  most  fatal  hours  of 
darkness.  The  slack  limbs  moved ;  the  body  rose  and  fell. 
The  cost  of  the  effort  was  the  breaking  out  of  innumerable 
wounds,  old  and  new ;  the  gain  was  the  display  of  the 
miracle  that;  Italy  lived.  She  tasted  her  own  blood,  and 
herself  knew  that  she  lived.  Then  she  felt  her  chains. 
The  time  was  coming  for  her  to  prove,  by  the  virtues  within 
her,  that  she  was  worthy  to  live,  when  others  of  her  sons, 
subtle  and  adept,  intricate  as  serpents,  bold,  unquestioning 
as  well-bestridden  steeds,  should  grapple  and  play  deep  for 
her  in  the  game  of  worldly  strife.  Now — at  this  hour  of 
which  I  speak — when  Austrians  marched  like  a  merry  flame 
down  Milan  streets,  and  Italians  stood  like  the  burnt-out 
cinders  of  the  fire-grate,  Italy's  faint  wi'ist  was  still  in  the 
clutch  of  her  grave  leech,  who  counted  the  beating  of  her 
pulse  between  long  pauses,  that  would  have  made  another 
think  life  to  be  heaving  its  last,  not  beginning. 

The  Piazza  d'Armi  was  empty  of  its  glittering  show. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  FIFTEENTH. 


Wr  quit  the  Piazza  d'Armi.  Rumour  had  its  home  in 
Milan.  On  their  way  to  the  Gaffe  La  Scala,  Luciano  and 
Carlo  (who  held  together,  determined  to  be  taken  together 
if  the  arrest  should  come)  heard  it  said  that  the  Chief  was 
in  Milan.  A  man  passed  by  and  uttered  it,  going.  They 
stopped  a  second  man,  who  was  known  to  them,  and  he  con. 
firmed  the  rumour.  Glad  as  sunlight  once  more,  they  hurried 
to  Count  Medole  forgivingly.  The  count's  servant  assured 
them  that  his  master  had  left  the  city  for   Monza.     "  Is 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  FIFTEENTH.  161 

Medolo  a  coward  ?"  cried  Luciano,  almost  in  the  servant's 
hearing.  The  fleeing  of  so  important  a  man  looked  vile, 
now  that  they  were  sharpened  by  new  eagerness.  Forthwith 
they  were  off  to  Agostino,  believing  that  he  would  know  the 
truth.  They  found  him  in  bed.  "  Well,  and  what  ?"  said 
Agostino,  replying  to  their  laughter.  "  I  am  old ;  too  old 
to  stride  across  a  day  and  night,  like  you  giants  of  youth. 
I  take  my  rest  when  I  can,  for  I  must  have  it." 

"  But,  you  know,  O  conscript  father,"  said  Carlo,  willing 
to  fall  a  little  into  his  mood,  "  you  know  that  nothing  will 
be  done  to-night." 

*'  Do  I  know  so  much?"  Agostino  murmured  at  full  length. 

"Do  you  know  that  the  Chief  is  in  the  city  ?"  said  Luciano. 

*'  A  man  who  is  lying  in  bed  knows  this,"  returned  Agostino, 
*'  that  he  knows  less  than  those  who  are  up,  though  what  he 
does  know  he  perhaps  digests  better.  'Tis  you  who  are  the 
fountains,  my  boys,  while  I  am  the  pool  into  which  you  play. 
Say  on." 

They  spoke  of  the  rumour.  He  smiled  at  it.  They  saw 
at  once  that  the  rumour  was  false,  for  the  Chief  trusted 
Agostino. 

"  Proceed  to  Barto,  the  mole,"  he  said,  "  Barto  the  miner; 
"he  is  the  father  of  daylight  in  the  city:  of  the  daylight  of 
knowledge,  you  understand,  for  which  men  must  dig  deep. 
Proceed  to  him ; — if  you  can  find  him." 

But  Carlo  brought  flame  into  Agostino's  eyes. 

"  The  accursed  beast !  he  has  pinned  the  black  butterfly 
to  the  signorina's  dress." 

Agostino  rose  on  his  elbow.  He  gazed  at  them.  "  We 
are  followers  of  a  blind  mole,"  he  uttered  with  an  inner 
voice,  while  still  gazing  wrathfully,  and  then  burst  out  in 
grief,  '* '  Patria  o  mea  creatrix,  patria  o  mea  genetrix  !'" 

"The  signorina  takes  none  of  his  warnings,  nor  do  we. 
She  escaped  a  plot  last  night,  and  to-night  she  sings." 

"  She  must  not,"  said  Agostino  impej'iously. 

"  She  does." 

"  I  must  stop  that."     Agostino  jumped  out  of  bed. 

The  young  men  beset  him  with  entreaties  to  leave  the 
option  to  her. 

"  Pools!"  he  cried,  plunging  a  raging  leg  into  his  garments. 
*•  Here,  Iris  !  Mercury  !  fly  to  Jupiter  and  say  we  are  all  old 
men  and  boys  in  Italy,  and  are  ready  to  accept  a  few  middlc- 

M 


1G2  VITTOEIA. 

aged  mortals  as  Gods,  if  they  will  come  and  lielp  ns.  Toung 
fools!  Do  you  know  that  when  you  conspire  you  are  in 
harness,  and  yokefellows,  every  one  ?" 

"  Toked  to  that  Barto  Rizzo  !" 

"  Yes  ;  and  the  worse  horse  of  the  two.  Listen,  you  pair 
of  Nuremberg  puppet-heads  !  If  the  Chief  were  here,  I 
would  lie  still  in  my  bed.  Medole  has  stopped  the  outbreak. 
Right  or  wrong,  he  moves  a  mass  ;  we  are  subordinates — • 
particles.  The  Chief  can't  be  everywhere.  Milan  is  too 
hot  for  him.  Two  men  are  here,  concealed — Rinaldo  and 
Angelo  Guidascarpi.  The  rumour  springs  from  that.  They 
have  slain  Count  Paul  Lenkenstein,  and  rushed  to  old  Milan 
for  work,  with  the  blood  on  their  swords.  Oh,  the  tragedy  ! 
— when  I  have  time  to  write  it.  Let  me  now  go  to  my  girl, 
to  my  daughter !  The  blood  of  the  Lenkenstein  must  rust 
on  the  steel.  Angelo  slew  him  :  Rinaldo  gave  him  the  cross 
to  kiss.  You  shall  have  the  whole  story  by-and-by ;  but  this 
will  be  a  lesson  to  Germans  not  to  court  our  Italian  damsels. 
Lift  not  that  curtain,  you  Pannonian  burglars !  Much  do 
we  pardon  ;  but  bow  and  viol  meet  not,  save  that  they  be  of 
one  wood  ;  esj^ecially  not  when  signer  bow  is  from  yonderside 
the  Rhoetian  Alps,  and  donzella  Viol  is  a  growth  of  warm 
Lombardy.  Witness  to  it,  Angelo  and  Rinaldo  Guidascarpi  ! 
bravo  !  You  boys  there — you  stand  like  two  Tyrolese  salad- 
spoons  !  I  say  that  my  girl,  my  daughter,  shall  never  help 
to  fire  blank  shot.  I  sent  my  paternal  commands  to  her  yes- 
terday evening.  Does  the  wanton  disobey  her  father  and 
look  up  to  a  pair  of  rocket-headed  rascals  like  you  ?  Apes  ! 
if  she  sings  that  song  to-night,  the  ear  of  Italy  will  be  deaf 
to  her  for  ever  after.  There's  no  engine  to  stir  to-night ;  all 
the  locks  are  on  it ;  she  will  send  half-a-dozen  milklings  like 
you  to  perdition,  and  there  will  be  a  circle  of  black  blood 
about  her  name  in  the  traditions  of  the  insurrection — do  you 
hear  ?  Have  I  cherished  her  for  that  purpose  ?  to  have  her 
dedicated  to  a  brawl !  " 

Agostino  fumed  up  and  down  the  room  m  a  confusion  of 
apparel,  savouring  his  epithets  and  imaginative  peeps  while 
he  stormed,  to  get  a  relish  out  of  something,  as  beseems  the 
poetic  temperament.  The  youths  were  silenced  by  him; 
Carlo  gladly. 

"  Troop  !  "  said  the  old  man,  affecting  to  contrast  his 
attire  with  theirs ;  "  two  graces  and  a  satyr  never  yet  went 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  FIFTEENTH.  lG3 

together,  and  we'll  not  frighten  the  classic  Government  of 
Milan.  I  go  out  alone.  No,  signer  Luciano,  I  am  not  sworn 
to  Count  Medole.  I  see  your  sneer:  contain  it.  Ah  !  what 
a  thing  is  hurry  to  a  mind  like  mine.  It  tears  up  the  trees 
by  the  roots,  floods  the  land,  darkens  utterly  my  poor  quiet 
universe.  I  was  composing  a  pastoi'al  when  you  came  in. 
Observe  what  you  have  done  with  my  '  Lovely  Age  of 
Gold ! '" 

Agostino's  transfigurement  from  lymphatic  poet  to  fiery 
man  of  action,  lasted  till  his  breath  was  short,  when  the 
necessity  for  taking  a  deep  draught  of  air  induced  him  to 
fall  back  upon  his  idle  irony.  "  Heads,  you  illustrious  young 
gentlemen  ! — heads,  not  legs  and  arms,  move  a  conspiracy. 
Now,  you — think  what  you  will  of  it — are  only  legs  and  arms 
in  this  business.  And  if  you  are  insubordinate,  jou  present 
the  shocking  fabular  spirit  of  the  members  of  the  body  in 
revolt ;  which  is  not  the  revolt  we  desire  to  see.  I  go  to  my 
daughter  immediately,  and  we  shall  all  have  a  fat  sleep  for 
a  week,  while  the  Tedeschi  hunt,  and  stew,  and  exhaust  their 
naughty  suspicions.  Do  you  know  that  the  Pope's  Mouth  is 
closed  ?  We  made  it  tell  a  big  lie  before  it  shut  tight  on  its 
teeth — a  bad  omen,  I  admit ;  but  the  idea  was  rapturously 
neat.  Barto,  the  sinner — be  sui'e  I  throttle  him  for  putting 
that  blot  on  my  swan  ;  only,  not  yet,  not  yet :  he's  a  blind 
mole,  a  mad  patriot ; — but,  as  I  say,  our  beast  Barto  drew  an 
Austrian  to  the  Mouth  last  night,  and  led  the  dog  to  take  a 
letter  out  of  it,  detailing  the  whole  plot  of  to-night,  and  how 
men  will  be  stationed  at  the  vicolo  here,  ready  to  burst  out 
on  the  Corso,  and  at  the  vicolo  there,  and  elsewhere,  all  over 
the  city,  caiTying  fire  and  sword ;  a  systematic  map  of  the 
plot.  It  was  addressed  to  Count  Serabiglione ! — my  boys  ! 
my  boys  !  what  do  you  think  of  it  ? — Bravo !  though  Barto 

is  a  deadly  beast  if  he "  Agostino  paused.    "  Yes,  he  went 

too  far  !  too  far  !  " 

"  Has  he  only  gone  too  far,  do  you  say  ?  " 

Carlo  spoke  sternly.  His  elder  was  provoked  enough  by 
his  deadness  of  enthusiasm,  and  that  the  boy  should  dare  to 
stalk  on  a  bare  egoistical  lover's  sentiment  to  be  critical  of 
him,  Agostino,  struck  him  as  monstrous.  With  the  treachery 
of  controlled  rage,  Agostino  drew  near  him,  and  whispered 
some  sentences  in  his  ear.  Agostino  then  called  him  his 
good  Spartan  boy  for  keeping  bravo  countenance.     "Wait 

m2 


164  VITTOKIA. 

till  you  comprehend  women  pliilosophi.ially.  All's  trouble 
with  them  till  then.  At  La  Scala  to-night,  my  sons  !  We 
have  rehearsed  the  fiasco ;  the  Tedesclii  perform  it.  Ofi 
•with  you,  that  I  may  go  out  alone !  " 

He  seemed  to  think  it  an  indubitable  matter  that  he  would 
find  Vittoria  and  bend  her  will. 

Agostino  had  betrayed  his  weakness  to  the  young  men, 
who  read  him  with  the  keen  eyes  of  a  particular  disappro- 
bation. He  deliofhted  in  the  dax-k  web  of  intria-ue,  and 
believed  himself  to  be  no  ordinary  weaver  of  that  sunless 
work.  It  captured  his  imagination,  filling  his  pride  with  a 
mounting  gas.  Thus  he  had  become  allied  to  Medole  on  the 
one  hand,  and  to  Barto  Rizzo  on  the  other.  The  young  men 
read  him  shrewdly,  but  speaking  was  useless. 

Before  Carlo  parted  from  Luciano,  he  told  him  the  burden 
of  the  whisper,  which  had  confirmed  what  he  had  heard  on 
the  Piazzi  d'Armi.  It  was  this  :  Barto  Rizzo,  aware  that 
Lieutenant  Pierson  was  the  bearer  of  despatches  from  the 
Archduke  in  Milan  to  the  marshal,  then  in  Verona,  had  fol- 
lowed, and  by  extraordinary  effort  reached  Verona  in 
advance  ;  had  there  tricked  and  waylaid  him,  and  obtained, 
instead  of  despatches,  a  letter  of  recent  date,  addressed  to  him 
by  Vittoria,  which  compromised  the  insurrectionary  project. 

"If  that's  the  case,  my  Carlo!"  said  his  friend,  and 
ehragged,  and  spoke  in  a  very  wordly  fashion  of  the  sex. 

Carlo  shook  him  off.  For  the  rest  of  the  day  he  was  alone, 
shut  up  with  his  journalistic  pen.  The  pen  traversed  seas 
and  continents  like  an  old  hack  to  whom  his  master  has 
thrown  the  reins.  .  Apart  from  the  desperate  perturbation  of 
his  soul,  he  thought  of  the  Guidascarpi,  whom  he  knew,  and 
was  allied  to,  and  of  the  Lenkensteins,  whom  he  knew  like- 
wise, or  had  known  in  the  days  when  Giacomo  Piaveni  lived, 
and  Bianca  von  Lenkenstein,  Laura's  sister,  visited  among 
the  people  of  her  country.  Countess  Anna  and  Countess 
Lena  von  Lenkenstein  were  the  German  beauties  of  Milan, 
lively  little  women,  and  sweet.  Between  himself  and 
Countess  Lena  there  had  been  tender  dealings  about  the  age 
when  sweetmeats  have  lost  their  attraction,  and  the  charm 
has  to  be  supplied.  She  was  rich,  passionate  for  Austria, 
romantic  concerning  Italy,  a  vixen  in  temper,  but  with  a 
pearly  light  about  her  temples  that  kept  her  picture  in  his 
memory.     And  besides,  during  those  days  when  women  are 


THE  NIGHT  OF  1  HE  FIFTEENTH.  165 

bonntiful  to  us  as  Goddesses,  give  they  never  so  little,  she 
liad  deigned  to  fondle  hands  with  him  ;  had  set  the  universe 
I'ocking  with  a  visible  heave  of  her  bosom ;  jingled  all  the 
keys  of  mystery ;  and  had  once  (as  to  embalm  herself  in  his 
recollection),  once  had  surrendered  her  lips  to  him.  Countess 
Lena  would  have  espoused  Ammiani,  believing  in  her  power 
to  make  an  Austrian  out  of  such  Italian  material.  The 
I'iaveni  revolt  had  stopped  that  and  all  their  intercourse  by 
the  division  of  the  White  Hand,  as  it  was  called  ;  otherwise, 
the  hand  of  the  corpse.  Ammiani  had  known  also  Count 
Paul  von  Lenkenstein.  To  his  mind,  death  did  not  mean 
much,  however  pleasant  life  might  be  :  his  father  and  his 
friend  had  gone  to  it  gaily  ;  and  he  himself  stood  ready  for 
the  summons  :  but  the  contemplation  of  a  domestic  judicial 
execution,  which  the  Guidascarpi  seemed  to  have  done  upon 
Count  Paul,  affrighted  him,  and  put  aa  end  to  his  temporary 
capacity  for  labour.  He  felt  as  if  a  spent  shot  were  striking 
on  his  ribs  ;  it  was  the  unknown  sensation  of  fear.  Changeing, 
it  became  pity.  "  Horrible  deaths  these  Austrians  die  !"  he 
said.  For  a  while  he  regarded  their  lot  as  the  hardest.  A 
shaft  of  sunlight  like  blazing  brass  warned  him  that  the  day 
dropped.  He  sent  to  his  mother's  stables,  and  rode  at  a 
gallop  round  j\Iilan,  dining  alone  in  one  of  the  common  hotel 
gai'dens,  where  he  was  a  stranger.  A  man  may  have  good 
nerve  to  face  the  scene  which  he  is  certain  will  be  enacted, 
who  shrinks  from  an  hour  that  is  suspended  in  doubt.  He 
was  aware  of  the  pallor  and  chill  of  his  looks,  and  it  was  no 
marvel  to  him  when  two  sbirri  in  mufti,  foreign  to  Milan, 
set  their  eyes  on  him  as  they  passed  by  to  a  vacant  table  on 
the  farther  side  of  the  pattering  gold-fish  pool,  where  he  sat. 
He  divined  that  they  might  be  in  pursuit  of  the  Guidascarpi, 
and  alive  to  I'ead  a  troubled  visage.  "  Yet  neither  Rinaldo 
nor  Angelo  would  look  as  I  do  now,"  he  thought,  perceiving 
that  these  men  were  judging  by  such  signs,  and  had  their 
ideas.  Democrat  as  he  imagined  himself  to  be,  he  despised 
with  a  nobleman's  contempt  creatures  who  were  so  dead  to 
the  character  of  men  of  birth  as  to  suppose  that  they  were 
})ale  and  remorseful  after  dealing  a  righteous  blow,  and  that 
they  trembled !  Ammiani  looked  at  his  hand :  no  force  of 
his  will  could  arrest  its  palsy.  The  Guidascarpi  were  sons 
of  Bologna.  The  stupidity  of  Italian  sbirri  is  jiroverbial,  or 
a  Milanese  cavalier  would  have  been  astonished  to  conceive 


1G8  VITTORIA. 

himself  mistaken  for  a  Bolocrnese.  He  beckoned  to  the 
wuiter,  and  said,  "  Tell  me  what  place  has  bred  those  two 
fellows  on  the  other  side  of  the  fountain."  After  a  side-glance 
of  scrutiny,  the  reply  was,  "  Neapolitans."  The  waiter  was 
ready  to  make  an  additional  remark,  but  Ammiani  nodded 
and  communed  with  a  toothpick.  He  was  sure  that  those 
Neapolitans  were  recruits  of  the  Bolognese  Polizia ;  on  the 
track  of  the  Guidascarpi,  possibly.  As  he  was  not  unlike 
Angelo  Guidascarpi  in  figure,  he  became  uneasy  lest  they 
should  blunder  'twixt  him  and  La  Scala ;  and  the  notion  of 
any  human  power  stopping  him  short  of  that  destination, 
made  Ammiani's  hand  perfectly  firm.  He  drew  on  his  gloves, 
and  named  the  place  whither  he  was  going,  aloud.  "  Excel- 
lency," said  the  water,  while  taking  up  and  pretending  to 
reckon  the  money  for  the  bill :  "  they  have  asked  me  whether 
there  are  two  Counts  Ammiani  in  Milan."  Carlo's  eye- 
brows started.  "  Can  they  be  after  me  ?"  he  thought,  and 
said :  "  Certainly  ;  there  is  twice  anything  in  this  world, 
and  Milan  is  the  epitome  of  it."  Acting  a  part  gave  him 
Agostino's  catching  manner  of  speech.  The  waiter,  who 
knew  him  now,  took  this  for  an  order  to  say  "  Yes."  He 
had  evidently  a  respect  for  Ammiani's  name :  Carlo  sup- 
posed that  he  was  one  of  Milan's  fighting  men.  A  sort  of 
answer  leading  to  "  Yes  "  by  a  circuit  and  the  assistance 
of  the  hearer,  was  conveyed  to  the  sbirri.  They  were 
true  Neapolitans  :  quick  to  suspect,  irresolute  upon  their 
suspicions.  He  was  soon  aware  that  they  were  not  to  be 
f eai  ed  more  than  are  the  general  race  of  bunglers,  whom  the 
Gods  sometimes  strangely  favour.  They  perplexed  him :  for 
why  were  they  after  him  P  and  what  had  made  them  ask 
whether  he  had  a  brother  ?  He  was  followed,  but  not 
molested,  on  his  way  to  La  Scala. 

Ammiani's  heart  was  in  full  play  as  he  looked  at  the 
curtain  of  the  stage.  The  Night  of  the  Fifteenth  had  come. 
For  the  first  few  moments  his  strong-  excitement  fronting  the 
curtain,  amid  a  great  host  of  hearts  thumping  and  quivering 
up  in  the  smaller  measures  like  his  own,  together  with  the 
predisposing  belief  that  this  was  to  be  a  night  of  events, 
stopped  his  conscioiisness  that  all  had  been  thwarted  ;  that 
there  was  nothing  but  ]ilot,  plot,  counterplot  and  tangle,  dis- 
union, silly  subtlety,  jealousy,  vanity,  a  direful  cougi^egation 
of  antagonistic  elements  ;  threads  all  loose,  tongues  wagging. 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA,  1G7 

pressure  here,  pressure  there,  like  an  uncertain  rage  in  the 
entrails  of  the  undirected  earth,  and  no  master  hand  on  the 
spot  to  fuse  and  point  the  intense  distracted  forces. 

The  curtain,  therefore,  hung  like  any  common  opera- 
screen  ;  big  only  with  the  fate  of  the  new  prima  donna.  He 
was  robbed  even  of  the  certainty  that  Vittoria  would  appear. 
From  the  blank  aspect  of  the  curtain  he  turned  to  the  house, 
which  was  crowding  fast,  and  was  not  like  listless  Milan 
about  to  criticize  an  untried  voice.  The  commonly  empty 
boxes  of  the  aristocracy  were  full  of  occupants,  and  for  a 
wonder  the  white  uniforms  were  not  in  excess,  though  they 
were  to  be  seen.  The  first  person  whom  Ammiani  met  was 
Agostino,  who  spoke  gruffly.  Vittoria  had  been  invisible  to 
him.  Neither  the  maestro,  nor  the  impresario,  nor  the 
waiting-women  had  heard  of  her.  Uncertainty  was  behind 
the  cui  tain,  as  well  as  in  front ;  but  in  front  it  was  the  un- 
certainty which  is  tipped  with  expectation,  hushing  the 
usual  noisy  chatter,  and  setting  a  daylight  of  eyes  forward. 
Ammiani  spied  about  the  house,  and  caught  sight  of  Laura 
Piaveni  with  Colonel  Corte  by  her  side.  The  Lenkensteins 
were  in  the  Archduke's  box.  Antonio-Pericles,  and  the 
English  lady  and  Captain  Gambler,  were  next  to  them. 
The  appeai-ance  of  a  white  uniform  in  his  mother's  box 
over  the  stage  caused  Ammiani  to  shut  up  his  glass.  He 
was  making  his  way  thither  for  the  purpose  of  commencing 
the  hostilities  of  the  niofht,  when  Countess  Ammiani  entered 
the  lobby,  and  took  her  son's  arm  with  a  grave  face  and  a 
trembling  touch. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  PRIMA  DONNA. 


*•  "Whoever  is  in  my  box  is  my  guest,"  said  the  countess 
adding  a  convulsive  imperative  pressure  on  Cai-lo's  arm,  to 
aid  the  meaning  of  her  deep  undorbreath.  She  was  a  woman 
who  rarely  exacted  obedience,  and  she  was  spontaneously 
obeyed.  No  questions  could  be  put,  no  explanations  given 
in  the  crash,  and  they  threaded  on  amid  numerous  gi-cetings 


1 68  VITTOEIA. 

in  a  place  where  Milanese  society  had  habitually  ceased  to 
gather,  and  found  itself  now  in  assembly  with  unconcealed 
sensations  of  strangeness.  A  card  lay  on  the  table  of  the 
countess's  private  retiring-room:  it  bore  the  name  of  General 
Pierson.  She  threw  oli"  her  black  lace  scarf.  "Angelo 
Guidascarpi  is  in  Milan,"  she  said.  "  He  has  killed  one  of 
the  Lenkensteins,  sword  to  swoi-d.  He  came  to  me  an  hour 
after  you  left ;  the  sbirri  were  on  his  track  ;  he  passed  for 
my  son.  He  is  now  under  the  charge  of  Barto  Rizzo,  dis- 
guised ;  probably  in  this  house.  His  brother  is  in  the  city. 
Keep  the  cowl  on  your  head  as  long  as  possible ;  if  these 
hounds  see  and  identify  you,  there  will  be  mischief."  She 
said  no  more,  satisfied  that  she  was  understood,  but  opening 
the  door  of  the  box,  passed  in,  and  returned  a  stately 
acknowledgment  of  the  salutations  of  two  military  officers. 
Carlo  likewise  bent  his  head  to  them ;  it  was  like  bending 
his  knee,  for  in  the  younger  of  the  two  intruders  he  recog- 
nized Lieutenant  Pierson.  The  countess  accepted  a  vacated 
seat ;  the  cavity  of  her  ear  accepted  the  General's  apologies. 
He  informed  her  that  he  deeply  regretted  the  intrusion  ;  he 
was  under  orders  to  be  pi'esent  at  the  opera,  and  to  be  as 
near  the  stage  as  possible,  the  countess's  box  being  desig- 
nated. Her  face  had  the  unalterable  composure  of  a  painted 
head  upon  an  old  canvas.  The  General  persisted  in  tender- 
ing excuses.  She  replied,  "  It  is  best,  when  one  is  too  weak 
to  resist,  to  submit  to  an  outrage  quietly."  General  Pierson 
at  once  took  the  position  assigned  to  him ;  it  was  not  an 
agreeable  one.  Between  Carlo  and  the  lieutenant  no  attempt 
at  conversation  was  made. 

The  General  addressed  his  nephew  in  English.  *'  Did  you 
see  the  girl  behind  the  scenes,  Wilfrid  ?" 

The  answer  was  "  No." 

"  Pericles  has  her  fast  shut  up  in  the  Tyi^ol :  the  best 
habitat  for  her  if  she  objects  to  a  whipping.  Did  you  see 
Irma  ?" 

"  No  ;  she  has  disappeared  too." 

"  Then  I  suppose  we  must  make  up  our  minds  to  an  opera 
without  head  or  tail.  As  Pat  said  of  the  sack  of  potatoes, 
'  'twould  be  a  mighty  fine  beast  if  it  had  them.'  " 

The  officers  had  taken  refuge  in  their  opera-glasses,  and 
spoke  while  gazing  round  the  house. 

"  If  neither  this  girl  nor  Irma  is  going  to  appear,  there  is 


THK  PRIMA  DONNA.  169 

no  positive  necessity  for  my  presence  here,"  said  tlie  General, 
reduced  to  excuse  liimself  to  himself.  "  I'll  sit  through  the 
first  scene  and  then  beat  a  retreat.  I  might  be  off  at  once ; 
the  affair  looks  harmless  enough  :  only,  you  know,  when 
there's  nothing  to  see,  you.  must  report  that  you  have  seen  it, 
or  your  superiors  are  not  satisfied." 

The  lieutenant  was  less  able  to  covev  the  irksomeness  of 
his  situation  with  easy  talk.  His  glance  rested  on  Countess 
Lena  von  Lenkenstein,  a  quick  motion  of  whose  hand  made 
him  say  that  he  should  go  over  to  her. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  General;  "be  careful  that  you  give 
no  hint  of  this  horrible  business.  They  will  hear  of  it  when 
they  get  home  :  time  enough  !" 

Lieutenant  Pierson  touched  at  his  sister's  box  on  the  way. 
She  was  very  excited,  asked  innumerable  things, — whether 
there  was  danger  ?  whether  he  had  a  whole  regiment  at 
hand  to  protect  peaceable  persons  ?  "  Otherwise,"  she  said, 
"I  sliall  not  be  able  to  keep  that  man  (her  husband)  in  Italy 
another  week.  He  refused  to  stir  out  to-night,  though  we 
know  that  nothing  can  happen.  Your  prima  donna  celestis- 
sima  is  out  of  harm's  way." 

"  Oh,  she  is  safe, — ze  minx  ;"  cried  Antonio-Pericles, 
laughing  and  saluting  the  Duchess  of  Graatli,  who  presented 
herself  at  the  front  of  her  box.  Major  de  Pyrmont  was 
behind  her,  and  it  delighted  the  Greek  to  point  them  out  to 
the  English  lady,  with  a  simple  intimation  of  the  character 
of  their  lelationship,  at  which  her  curls  shook  sadly. 

"  Pardon,  raadame,"  said  Pericles.  "  In  Italy,  a  husband 
away,  ze  friend  takes  title  :  it  is  no  more." 

"  It  is  very  disgraceful,"  she  said. 

*'  Ze  morales,  madame,  suit  ze  sun." 

Captain  Gambler  left  the  box  with  Wilfrid,  expressing  in 
one  sentence  his  desire  to  fling  Pericles  over  to  the  pit,  and 
in  another  his  belief  that  an  English  friend,  named  Merthyr 
Powys,  was  in  the  house. 

"  He  won't  be  in  the  city  four-and-twenty  hours,"  said 
Wilfrid. 

"  Well ;  you'll  keep  your  tongue  silent." 

*'  By  heavens  !  Gambier,  if  you  know  the  insults  we  have 
to  submit  to  !  The  temper  of  angels  couldn't  stand  it.  I'm 
porry  enough  for  these  fellows,  with  their  confounded  country, 
but  it's  despeiate  woi-k  to  bo  civil  to  them ;  upon  my  honour, 


170  VITTOEIA. 

it  is !  I  wish  tliey  wotild  stand  up  and  let  us  have  it  over. 
We  have  to  bear  more  fi-om  the  women  than  the  men." 

"I  leave  you  to  cool,"  said  Gambier. 

The  delayed  absence  of  the  maestro  from  his  post  at  the 
head  of  the  orchestra,  where  the  musicians  sat  awaitintj-  him, 
seemed  to  confirm  a  rumour  that  was  now  circlino-  among: 
the  audience,  warning-  all  to  prepare  for  a  disappointment. 
His  baton  was  brought  in  and  laid  on  the  book  of  the  new 
overture.  When  at  last  he  was  seen  bearing  onward  through 
the  music-stands,  a  low  murmur  ran  round.  Rocco  paid  no 
heed  to  it.  His  demeanour  produced  such  satisfaction  in 
the  breast  of  Antonio- Pei'icles  that  he  rose,  and  was  guilty 
of  the  barbarism  of  clapping  his  hands.  Meeting  Ammiani 
in  the  lobby,  he  said,  "  Come,  my  good  friend,  you  shall  help 
me  to  pull  Irma  through  to-night.  She  is  vinegar —  we  will 
mix  her  with  oil.  It  is  only  for  to-night,  to  save  that  poor 
Rocco's  opei-a." 

"Irma!"  said  Ammiani;  "she  is  by  this  time  in  Tyrol. 
Your  Irma  will  have  some  difficulty  in  showing  herself  here 
within  sixty  hours." 

"  How !"  cried  Pericles,  amazed,  and  plucking  after  Carlo 
to  stop  him.     "  I  bet  you " 

"  How  much  ?" 

"  I  bet  you  a  thousand  florins  you  do  not  see  la  Yittoria 
to-night." 

"  Good.    I  bet  you  a  thousand  florins  you  do  not  see  Irma." 

"No,  Vittoria,  I  say!" 

"  And  I  say,  no  Lazzeruola  !" 

Agostino,  who  was  pacing  the  lobby,  sent  Pericles  dis- 
traught with  the  same  tale  of  the  rape  of  Irma.  He  rushed 
to  Signora  Piaveni's  box  and  heard  it  repeated.  There  he 
beheld,  sitting  in  the  background,  an  old  English  acquaint- 
ance, with  whom  Captain  Gambier  was  conversing. 

"  My  dear  Powys,  you  have  come  all  the  way  from  England 
to  see  your  favourite's  first  night.  You  will  be  shocked,  sir. 
She  has  neglected  her  Art.  She  is  exiled,  banished,  sent 
away  to  study  and  to  compose  her  mind." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Laura.  "  You  will  see 
her  almost  immediately." 

"  Signora,  pardon  me  ;  do  I  not  know  best  ?'* 

"You  may  have  contrived  badly." 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  171 

Pericles  blinked  and  gnawed  his  moustaclie  as  if  it  were 
food  for  patience. 

"  I  would  wager  a  milliard  of  francs,"  he  muttered.  With 
absolute  pathos  he  related  to  Mr.  Powys  the  abei-rations  of 
the  divinely-gifted  voice,  the  wreck  which  Vittoria  strove 
to  become,  and  from  which  he  alone  was  striving  to  rescue 
her.  He  used  abundant  illustrations,  coarse  and  quaint,  and 
was  half  hysterical ;  flashing  a  white  fist  and  thumping  the 
long  projection  of  his  knee  with  a  wolfish  aspect.  His 
grotesque  sincerity  was  little  short  of  the  shedding  of  tears. 

"  And  your  sister,  my  dear  Powys  ?"  he  asked,  as  one 
returning  to  the  consideration  of  shadows. 

"  My  sister  accompanies  me,  but  not  to  the  opera." 

"  For  another  campaign — hein  ?" 

"  To  winter  in  Italy,  at  all  events." 

Carlo  Ammiani  entered  and  embraced  Merthyr  Powys 
warmly.  The  Englishman  was  at  home  among  Italians : 
Pericles,  feeling  that  he  was  not  so,  and  regai'ding  them  all  as 
a  community  of  fever-patients  without  hospital,  I'ctired.  To 
his  mind  it  was  the  vilest  treason,  the  grossest  selfishness,  to 
conspire  or  to  wink  at  the  sacrifice  of  a  voice  like  Vittoria's  to 
such  a  temporal  matter  as  this,  which  they  called  patriotism. 
He  looked  on  it  as  one  might  look  on  the  Hindoo  drama  of  a 
Suttee.  He  saw  in  it  just  that  stupid  action  of  a  whole  body 
of  fanatics  combined  to  precipitate  the  devotion  of  a  pi-ecious 
thing  to  extinction.  And  worse ;  for  life  was  common,  and 
women  and  Hindoo  widow^s  were  common ;  but  a  Vittorian 
voice  was  but  one  in  a  generation — in  a  cycle  of  years.  The 
religious  belief  of  the  connoisseur  extended  to  the  devout 
conception  that  her  voice  was  a  spiritual  endowment,  the 
casting  of  which  priceless  jewel  into  the  bloody  ditch  of 
patriots  was  far  more  tragic  and  lamentable  than  any  dis- 
astrous concourse  of  dedicated  lives.  He  shook  the  lobby 
with  his  tread,  thinking  of  the  great  night  this  might  have 
been  but  for  Vittoria's  madness.  The  overture  was  coming 
to  an  end.  By  tightening-  his  arms  across  his  chest  he  gained 
some  outward  composure,  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  stage. 

While  sitting  with  Laura  Piaveni  and  Mei-thyr  Powys, 
Ammiani  saw  the  apparition  of  Captain  Weisspriess  in  his 
mother's  box.  He  forgot  her  injunction,  and  hurried  to  her 
side,  leaving  the  doors  open.  His  passion  of  anger  spui'iied 
her  admonishing  grasp  of  his  arm,  and  with   his  glove  he 


172  VITTORIA. 

smote  tlie  Anstrian  officer  on  the  face.  Weisspriess  plnclced 
his  sword  out;  the  house  rose;  there  was  a  moment  like 
that  of  a  wild  beast's  show  of  teeth.  It  passed:  Captain 
Weisspriess  withdrew  in  obedience  to  General  Pierson's 
command.  The  latter  wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper  that  two 
pieces  of  artillery  should  be  placed  in  position,  and  a  squad 
of  men  about  the  doors  :  he  handed  it  out  to  Weisspriess. 

"  I  hope,"  the  General  said  to  Carlo,  "  we  shall  be  able  to 
arrange  things  for  you  without  the  interposition  of  the 
authorities." 

Carlo  rejoined,  "  General,  he  has  the  blood  of  our  family 
on  his  hands.     I  am  ready." 

The  General  bowed.  He  glanced  at  the  countess  for  a 
sign  of  maternal  weakness,  saw  none,  and  understood  that  a 
duel  was  down  in  the  morrow's  bill  of  entertainments,  as 
well  as  a  riot  possibly  before  dawn.  The  house  had  reveak'd 
its  temper  in  that  short  outburst,  as  a  quivering  of  quick 
lightning-flame  betrays  the  forehead  of  the  storm. 

Countess  Ammianibade  her  son  make  fast  the  outer  door. 
Her  sedate  energies  could  barely  control  her  agitation.  ^  In 
helping  Angelo  Guidascarpi  to  evade  the  law,  she  had  im- 
perilled her  son  and  herself.  Many  of  the  Bolognese  sbirri 
were  in  pursuit  of  Angelo.  Some  knew  his  person  ;  spme 
did  not ;  but  if  those  two  before  whom  she  had  identified 
Angelo  as  being  her  son  Carlo  chanced  now  to  be  in  the 
house,  and  to  have  seen  him,  and  heard  his  name,  the  risks 
were  gi-eat  and  various. 

"Do  you  know  that  handsome  young  Count  Amraiani  ?" 
Countess  Lena  said  to  Wilfrid.  "  Perhaps  you  do  not  think 
him  handsome  ?  He  was  for  a  short  time  a  playfellow  of 
mine.  He  is  more  passionate  than  I  am,  and  that  does  not 
say  a  little ;  I  warn  you !  Look  how  excited  he  is.  No 
wonder.  He  is — everybody  knows  it — he  is  la  Vittoria's 
lover." 

Countess  Lena  uttered  that  sentence  in  Italian.  The  soft 
tongue  sent  it  like  a  coiling  serpent  through  Wilfrid's  veins. 
In  English  or  in  German  it  would  not  have  possessed  the 
deadly  meaning. 

She  may  have  done  it  purposely,  for  she  and  her  sister 
Countess  Anna  studied  his  face,  the  lifting  of  the  curtain 
drew  all  eyes  to  the  stage.  . 

Rocco  Ricci's  baton  struck  for  the  opening  of  one  of  his 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  il^ 

spirited  choruses  ;  a  chorus  of  villag'ers,  who  sing  to  tho 
burden  that  Happiness,  the  aim  of  all  humanity,  has  pro- 
mised to  visit  the  earth  this  day,  that  she  may  witness  the 
union  of  the  noble  lovers,  Camillo  and  Camilla.  Then  a 
shepherd  sings  a  verse,  with  his  hand  stretched  out  to  the 
impending  castle.  There  lives  Count  Orso  :  will  he  permit 
their  festivities  to  pass  undisturbed  ?  The  puling  voice  is 
crushed  by  the  chorus,  which  protests  that  the  heavens  are 
above  Count  Orso.  But  another  villager  tells  of  Count 
Orso's  power,  and  hints  at  his  misdeeds.  The  chorus  rises 
in  reply,  warning  all  that  Count  Orso  has  ears  wherever 
three  are  congi^egated  ;  the  villagers  break  apart  and  eye 
one  another  distrustfully,  reuniting  to  the  song  of  Happiness 
before  they  disperse.  Camillo  enters  solus.  Montini,  as 
Camillo,  enjoyed  a  warm  reception  ;  but  as  he  advanced  to 
deliver  his  romanzo,  it  was  seen  that  he  and  Rocco  inter- 
changed glances  of  desperate  resignation.  Camillo  has  had 
love  passages  with  Michiella,  Count  Orso's  daughter,  and 
does  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  he  dreads  her.  The  orphan 
Camilla,  who  has  been  reared  in  yonder  castle  with  her,  as 
her  sister,  is  in  danger  during  all  these  last  minutes  which 
still  retain  her  from  his  arms. 

"  If  I  should  never  see  her — I  who,  like  a  poor  ghost 
upon  the  shores  of  the  dead  river,  have  been  flattered  with 
the  thought  that  she  would  fall  upon  my  breast  like  a  ray 
of  the  light  of  Elysium — if  I  should  never  see  her  more !" 
The  famous  tenore  threw  his  whole  force  into  that  outcry  of 
projected  despair,  and  the  house  was  moved  by  it :  there 
Avere  many  in  the  house  who  shared  his  apprehension  of  a 
foul  mischance. 

Thenceforward  the  opera  and  the  Italian  audience  were 
as  one.  All  that  was  uttered  had  a  meaning,  and  was 
sympathetically  translated.  Camilla  they  perceived  to  be  a 
grave  burlesque  Avith  a  core  to  it.  The  quick-witted 
Italians  caught  up  the  interpretation  in  a  flash.  '  Count 
Orso'  Austria;  '  Michiella '  is  Austria's  spirit  of  intrigue; 
'  Camillo '  is  indolent  Italy,  amorous  Italy,  Italy  aimless  ; 
'  Camilla  '  is  YouNG  Italy  ! 

Their  eagerness  for  sight  of  Vittoria  was  now  red-hot, 
and  when  Camillo  exclaimed  "She  comes!"  many  rose  [voxa 
their  scats. 

A  scrap  of  paper  was  handed  to  Antonio-Pericles  from 


174  VITTOEIA. 

Captain  Weisspriesg,  saying'  briefly  that  he  had  found  Irma 
in  the  carriage  instead  of  the  little  "v,"  thanked  hina  for 
the  joke,  and  had  bi'ought  her  back.  Pericles  was  there- 
fore not  surprised  when  Irma,  as  Michiella,  came  on,  breath- 
less, and  looking  in  an  excitement  of  anger ;  he  knew  that 
he  had  been  tricked. 

Between  Camillo  and  Michiella  a  scene  of  some  vivacity 
ensued — reproaches,  threats  of  calamity,  offers  of  returning 
endearment  upon  her  part ;  a  display  of  courtly  scorn  upon 
his.  Irma  made  her  voice  claw  at  her  quandum  lover  very 
finely ;  it  was  a  voice  with  claws,  that  entered  the  hearing 
sharp-edged,  and  left  it  plucking  at  its  repose.  She  was 
applauded  relishingly  when,  after  vainly  wooing  him,  she 
turned  aside  and  said — 

*'  What  change  is  this  in  one  who  like  a  reed 

Bent  to  my  twisting  hands  ?     Does  he  recoil  ? 
Is  this  the  hound  whom  I  liave  used  to  feed 
With  sops  of  vinegar  and  sops  of  oil  ?" 

Michiella's  further  communications  to  the  audience  make 
it  known  that  she  has  allowed  the  pi-ogress  toward  the  cere- 
monies of  espousal  between  Camillo  and  Camilla,  in  order, 
at  the  last  moment,  to  show  her  power  over  the  youth  and 
to  plunge  the  detested  Camilla  into  shame  and  wretched- 
ness. 

Camillo  retires  :  Count  Orso  appears.  There  is  a  duet 
between  father  and  daughter  :  she  confesses  her  passion  for 
Camillo,  and  entreats  her  father  to  stop  the  ceremony  ;- — and 
here  the  justice  of  the  feelings  of  Italians,  even  in  their  heat 
of  blood,  was  noteworthy.  Count  Orso  says  that  he  would 
willingly  gratify  his  daughter,  as  it  would  gratify  himself, 
but  that  he  must  respect  the  law.  "  The  law  is  of  your  own 
making,"  says  Michiella.  "  Then,  the  more  must  I  respect 
it,"  Count  Orso  replies. 

The  audience  gave  Austria  credit  for  that  much  in  a  short 
murm  iir. 

Michiella's  aside,  "  Till  anger  seizes  him  I  wait !"  created 
laughter ;  it  came  in  contrast  with  an  extraordinary  pom- 
posity  of  self-satisfaction  exhibited  by  Count  Orso — the 
flower-faced,  tun-bellied  basso,  Lebruno.  It  was  irresistible. 
He  stood  swollen  out  like  a  morning  cock.  To  make  it 
further  telling,  he  took  off  his  yellow  bonnet  »vith  a  black- 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  175 

gloved  hand,  and  tlnimped  tlie  significant  colours  promi- 
nentlj^  on  his  immense  chest — an  idea,  not  of  Agostino's, 
but  Lebruno's  own ;  and  Agostino  cursed  with  fury.  Both 
he  and  Rocco  knew  that  their  joint  labour  would  probably 
have  only  one  nig-ht's  display  of  existence  in  the  Austrian 
dominions,  but  they  grudged  to  Lebruno  the  chief  merit  of 
despatching  it  to  the  Shades. 

The  villagers  are  heard  approaching.  "  My  father  !"  cries 
Michiella,  distractedly  ;  "  the  hour  is  near :  it  will  be  death 
to  your  daughter  !  Imprison  Camillo  :  I  can  bring  twenty 
witnesses  to  pi-ove  that  he  has  sworn  you  are  illegally  the 
lord  of  this  country.  You  will  rue  the  marriage.  Do  as 
yon  once  did.  Be  bold  in  time.  The  arrow-head  is  on  the 
string — cut  the  string!" 

"  As  I  once  did  ?"  replies  Oi-so  with  frown  terrific,  like  a 
black  crest.  He  turns  broadly  and  receives  the  chorus  of 
countrymen  in  paternal  fashion — an  admirably  acted  bit  of 
grave  burlesque. 

By  this  time  the  German  portion  of  the  audience  had,  by 
one  or  other  of  the  senses,  dimly  divined  that  the  opera  was 
a  shadow  of  something  concealed— thanks  to  the  buffo-basso 
Lebruno.  Doubtless  they  would  have  seen  this  before,  but 
that  the  Austrian  censorship  had  seemed  so  absolute  a  safe- 
guard. 

"  My  children  !  all  are  my  children  in  this  my  gladsome 
realm  !"  Count  Orso  says,  and  marches  forth,  after  receiving 
the  compliment  of  a  choric  song  in  honour  of  his  paternal 
government.     Michiella  follows  him. 

Then  came  the  deep  suspension  of  breath.  For,  as  upon 
the  midnight  you  count  bell-note  after  bell-note  of  the  toil- 
ing hour,  and  know  not  in  the  dai^kncsS  whether  there  shall 
be  one  beyond  it,  so  that  you  hang  over  an  abysm  until 
Twelve  is  sounded,  audience  and  actors  gazed  with  equal 
expectation  at  the  path  winding  round  from  the  castle,  wait- 
ing for  the  voice  of  the  new  prima  donna. 

"  Mia  madre  !"  It  issued  tremblingly  faint.  None  could 
say  who  was  to  appear. 

Rocco  Ricci  struck  twice  with  his  baton,  flung  a  radiant 
glance  across  his  shoulders  for  all  friends,  and  there  was 
joy  in  the  house.     Vittoria  stood  before  them. 


176  VITTOKIA, 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    OPERA   OF    CAMILLA. 

She  was   dressed  like  a  noble  damsel  from  the  hands  of 
Titian.     An  Italian  audience  cannot  but  be  critical  in  their 
first  glance  at  a  prima  donna,  for  they  are   asked   to   do 
homage  to  a  queen  who  is   to  be  taken  on  her  merits  :  all 
that  they  have  heard  and  have  been  taught  to  expect  of  her 
is  compared  swiftly  with  the  observation  of  her  appearance 
and   her  manner.       She  is  crucially  examined    to    discover 
defects.     There  is  no  boisterous  loyalty  at  the  outset.     And 
as  it  was  now  evident  that  Vittoria  had  chosen  to  imper- 
sonate a   significant   character,   her   indications    of    method 
were  jealously  watched  for  a  sign  of  inequality,  either  in 
her  motion,  or  the  force  of  her  eyes.     So  silent  a  reception 
might  have  seemed  cruel  in   any   other  case ;  though  in  all 
cases   the  candidate  for  laurels  must,  in  common  with  the 
criminal,  go  through  the  ordeal  of  justification.     Men  do  not 
heartily  bow    their    heads    until    they    have    subjected    the 
aspii'ant  to  some  personal  contest,  and  find  themselves  over- 
matched.    The  senses,  ready   to  become  so  slavish  in  adula- 
tion and  delight,  are  at  the  beginning  n^ore  exacting  than 
the  judgement,  more  imperious  than  the  will.     A  figure  in 
amber  and  pale  blue  silk  was  seen,  such  as  the  great  Venetian 
might  have  sketched  from   his   windows  on  a  day  when  the 
Doge  went  forth  to  wed  the  Adriatic  :  a  superb  Italian  head, 
with  dark   banded  hair-braid,  and  dark  strong  eyes  under 
unabashed  soft  eyelids.     She  moved  as,  after  long  gazing 
at  a  painting  of  a  fair  woman,  we   may  have  the  vision  of 
her  moving  from  the   frame.     It  was  an  animated  picture 
of  ideal  Italia.     The   sea  of  heads  right  up  to  the  highest 
walls  fronted  her  glistening,  and  she  was  mute  as  moonrise. 
A  virgin  who   loosens  a  dove  from   her  bosom  does  it  with 
no  greater  effort  than  Vittoria  gave  out  her  voice.     The 
white  bird  flutters  rapidly ;  it  circles  and  takes  its  flight. 
The  voice  seemed  to  be  as  little  the  singer's  own. 

The  theme  was  as  follows : — Camilla  has  di-eamed  over- 
night that  her  lost  mother  came  to  her  bedside  to  bless  her 
nuptials.  Her  mother  was  folded  in  a  black  shroud,  looking 
formless  as  death,  like  vei-y  death,  save  that  death  sheds  n 


THE  OPERA  OP  CAMILLA.  177 

tears.  She  wept,  without  change  of  voice,  or  mortal  shudder- 
ing, like  one  whose  nature  weeps :  "  And  with  the  forth- 
flowing  of  her  tears  the  knowledge  of  her  features  was 
revealed  to  me."  Behold  the  Adige,  the  Mincio,  Tiber,  and 
the  Po ! — such  great  rivers  were  the  tears  pouring  from  her 
eyes.  She  threw  apart  the  shroud :  her  breasts  and  her 
limbs  were  smooth  and  firm  as  those  of  an  immortal  Goddess  : 
but  breasts  and  limbs  showed  the  cruel  handwriting  of  base 
men  upon  the  body  of  a  martyred  saint.  The  blood  from 
those  deep  gashes  sprang  out  at  intervals,  mingling  with 
her  tears.     She  said  : — 

"  My  child  !  were  I  a  Goddess,  my  wounds  would  heal. 
Were  I  a  saint,  I  should  be  in  Paradise.  I  am  no  Goddess, 
and  no  saint :  yet  I  cannot  die.  My  wounds  flow  and  my 
tears.  My  tears  flow  because  of  no  fleshly  anguish  :  I  par- 
don my  enemies.  My  blood  flows  from  my  body,  my  tears 
from  my  soul  They  flow  to  wash  out  my  shame.  I  have 
to  expiate  my  soul's  shame  by  my  body's  shame.  Oh  !  how 
shall  I  tell  you  what  it  is  to  walk  among  my  children 
unknown  of  them,  though  each  day  I  bear  the  sun  abroad 
like  my  beating  heart ;  each  night  the  moon,  like  a  heart 
with  no  blood  in  it.  Sun  and  moon  they  see,  but  not  me  ! 
They  know  not  their  mother.  I  cry  to  God.  The  answer 
of  our  God  is  this  : — '  Give  to  thy  children  one  by  one  to 
drink  of  thy  mingled  tears  and  blood  : — then,  if  there  is 
virtue  in  them  they  shall  revive,  thou  shalt  revive.  If  virtue 
is  not  in  them,  they  and  thou  shall  continue  prostrate,  and 
the  ox  shall  walk  over  you.'  From  heaven's  high  altar, 
O  Camilla,  my  child,  this  silver  sacramental  cup  was  reached 
to  me.  Gather  my  tears  in  it,  fill  it  with  my  blood,  and 
drink." 

The  song  had  been  massive  in  monotones,  almost  Gregorian 
in  its  seveiuty  up  to  this  point. 

"  I  took  the  cup.  I  looked  my  mother  in  the  face.  I 
filled  the  cup  from  the  flowing  of  her  tears,  the  flowing  of 
her  blood ;  and  I  drank  !" 

Vittoria  sent  this  last  phase  ringing  out  forcefully.  From 
the  inveterate  contralto  of  the  interview,  she  i-ose  to  pure 
soprano  in  describing  her  own  action.  "  And  I  drank,"  was 
given  on  a  descent  of  the  voice :  the  last  note  was  in  the 
minor  key — it  held  the  ear  as  if  more  must  follow  :  like  a 
wail  alter  a  triumph  of  resolve.     It  was  a  niasLeipiece  of 

N 


1 78  VITTORIA. 

audacious  dramatic  musical  genius  addressed  with  sagacious 
cunning  and  courage  to  the  sympathizing  audience  present. 
The  siipposed  incompleteness  kept  them  listening;  the  in- 
tentness  sent  that  last  falling   (as  it  were,  broken)    note 
travelling  awakeningly  through  their  minds.     It  is  the  effect 
of  the  minor  key  to  stir  the  hearts  of  men  with   this  par- 
ticular suggestiveness.    The  house  rose,  Italians  and  Germans 
together.      Genius,   music,  and  enthusiasm   break  the   line 
of  nationalities.      A  rain  of  nosegays  fell  about   Vittoria  ; 
evvivas,  bravas,  shouts — all  the  outcries  of  delirious  men 
surrounded  her.     Men  and  women,  even  among  the  hardened 
chorus,    shook   together    and    sobbed.       "  Agostino  !  "    and 
"  Rocco  !"  were  called  ;  "  Vittoria  !"  "  Vittoria  !"  above  all, 
with  increasing  thunder,  like  a  storm  rushing  down  a  valley, 
striking  in  broad  volume  from  rock  to  rock,  humming  remote, 
and  bursting  up  again  in   the  face  of  the  vale.     Her  name 
was   sung  over  and  over — "  Vittoria  !  Vittoria !"  as  if  the 
mouths  were  enamoured  of  it. 

"  Eiwiva  la  Vittoria  e  V  Italia ! "  was  sung  out  from  the 
body  of  the  house. 

An  echo  replied — 

"  '  Italia  e  il  premio  della  Vittoria!  '"  a  well-known  saying 
gloriously  adapted,  gloriously  rescued  from  disgrace. 

But  the  object  and  source  of  the  tremendous  frenzy  stood 
like  one  frozen  by  the  revelation  of  the  magic  the  secret  of 
which  she  has  studiously  mastered.  A  nosegay,  the  last  oi 
the  tributary  shower,  discharged  from  a  distance,  fell  at  her 
feet.  She  gave  it  unconsciously  preference  over  the  rest, 
and  picked  it  up.  A  little  paper  was  fixed  in  the  centre. 
She  opened  it  with  a  mechanical  hand,  thinking  there  might 
be  patriotic  orders  enclosed  for  her.  It  was  a  cheque  for  one 
thousand  guineas,  drav.'n  upon  an  English  banker  by  the 
hand  of  Antonio-Pericles  Agiolopoulos  ; — freshly  drawn  ;  the 
ink  was  only  half  dried,  showing  signs  of  the  dictates  of  a 
furious  im]mlse.  This  dash  of  solid  prose,  and  its  convinc- 
iug  proof  that  her  Art  had  been  successful,  restored  Vit- 
toria's  composure,  though  not  her  early  statuesque  simplicity. 
Rocco  gave  an  inquiring  look  to  see  if  she  would  repeat  the 
song.  She  shook  her  head  resolutely.  Her  opening  of  the 
paper  in  the  bouquet  had  quieted  the  general  ebullition,  and 
the  expression  of  her  wish  being  seen,  the  chorus  was  per- 
Toittcd  to  usurp  her  place.     Agostino  paced  up  and  down  the 


THE  OPEKA  OF  CAMILLA.  179 

lobby,  foai'ful  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  leading  her  to  anti- 
climax. He  met  Antonio-Pericles,  and  told  him  so;  adding 
(for  now  the  mask  had  been  seen  through,  and  was  use- 
less any  further)  that  he  had  not  had  the  heart  to  put 
back  that  vision  of  Camilla's  mother  to  a  later  scene,  lest  an 
interruption  should  come  which  would  altogether  preclude 
its  being  heard.  Pericles  affected  disdain  of  any  success 
which  Vittoria  had  yet  achieved.  "  Wait  for  Act  the  Third," 
he  said;  but  his  irritable  ansiousness  to  hold  intci'course 
with  every  one,  patriot  or  critic,  German,  English,  or  Italian, 
betrayed  what  agitation  of  exultation  coursed  in  his  veins. 
"  Aha !  "  was  his  commencement  of  a  greeting ;  "  was 
Antonio-Pericles  wrong  when  he  told  you  that  he  had  a 
prima  donna  for  you  to  amaze  all  Christendom,  and  whose 
notes  were  safe  and  firm  as  the  footing  of  the  angels  up  and 
down  Jacob's  ladder,  my  friends  ?     Aha  !  " 

"  Do  you  see  that  your  uncle  is  signalling  to  you  ? " 
Countess  Lena  said  to  Wilfrid. 

He  answered  like  a  man  in  a  mist,  and  looked  neither  at 
her  nor  at  the  Genei'al,  who,  in  default  of  his  obedience  to 
gestures,  came  good-humouredly  to  the  box,  bringing  Cap- 
tain Weisspriess  with  him. 

"  We're  assisting  at  a  pretty  show,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  in  love  with  her  voice,"  said  Countess  Anna. 

"  Ay  ;  if  it  were  only  a  matter  of  voices,  countess." 

"  I  think  that  these  good  people  require  a  trouncing,"  said 
Captain  Weisspriess. 

"  Lieutenant  Pierson  is  not  of  your  opinion,"  Countess 
Anna  remarked. 

Hearing  his  own  name,  Wilfrid  turned  to  them,  with  a 
w^eariness  well  acted,  but  insufficiently  to  a  jealous  observa- 
tion, for  his  eyes  were  quick  under  the  carelessly-dro|)ped 
eyelids,  and  ranged  keenly  over  the  stage  while  they  were 
affecting  to  assist  his  fluent  tongue. 

Countess  Lena  levelled  her  opera-glass  at  Carlo  Ammiani, 
and  then  placed  the  glass  in  her  sister's  hand.  Wilfrid 
drank  deep  of  bitterness.  "  That  is  Vittoria's  lover,"  he 
thought ;  "  the  lover  of  the  Emilia  who  once  loved  me !  " 

Genei'al  Pici-son  may  have  noticed  this  by-play  :  he  said  to 
his  nephew  in  the  brief  military  tone :  "  Go  out ;  see  that 
the  whole  regiment  is  handy  about  the  house;  station  a 
dozen  men,  with  a  Serjeant,    at   each  of  the  back-doors,  and 


ISO  VITTOEIA 

remain  below.     I  very  much,  mistake,  or  we  shall  have  to 
make  a  capture  of  this  little  woman  to-iiight." 

"  How  on  earth,"  he  resumed,  while  Wilfrid  rose 
savagely  and  went  out  with  his  stiffest  bow,  "  this  opera 
was  permitted  to  appear,  I  can't  guess  !  A  child  could  see 
through  it.  The  stupidity  of  our  civil  authorities  passes  my 
understanding — it's  a  miracle  !  We  have  stringent  orders 
not  to  take  any  initiative,  or  I  would  stop  the  Fraulein 
Camilla  from  uttering  another  note." 

"  If  you  did  that,  I  should  be  angry  with  you,  General," 
said  Countess  Anna. 

"  And  I  also  think  the  Government  cannot  do  wrong," 
Countess  Lena  joined  in. 

The  General  contented  himself  by  saying :  "  Well,  we 
shall  see." 

Countess  Lena  talked  to  Captain  Weisspriess  in  an  under- 
tone, referring  to  what  she  called  his  dispute  with  Carlo 
Ammiani.  The  captain  was  extremely  playful  in  re- 
joinders. 

"  You  iron-man !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Man  of  steel  would  be  the  better  phrase,"  her  sister 
whispered. 

"  It  will  be  an  assassination,  if  it  happens." 

"  No  officer  can  bear  with  an  open  insult,  Lena." 

"  I  shall  not  sit  and  see  harm  done  to  my  old  playmate, 
Anna." 

"  Beware  of  betraying  yourself  for  one  who  detests  you." 

A  grand  duo  between  Montini  and  Vittoria  silenced  all 
converse.  Camilla  tells  Camillo  of  her  dream.  He  pledges 
his  oath  to  discover  her  mother,  if  alive  ;  if  dead,  to  avenge 
her.  Camilla  says  she  believes  her  mother  is  in  the  dun- 
geons of  Count  Orso's  castle.  The  duo  tasked  Vittoria's 
execution  of  florid  passages  ;  it  gave  evidence  of  her  sound 
artistic  powei\s. 

"  I  was  a  fool,"  thought  Antonio- Pericles ;  "  I  flung  my 
bouquet  with  the  herd.     I  was  a  fool !     I  lost  my  head  !" 
He    tapped    angrily   at    the    little   ink-flask    in   his    coat 
pocket. 

The  first  act,  after  scenes  between  false  Camillo  and 
Michiella,  ends  with  the  marriage  of  Camillo  and  Camilla; 
■ — a  quatuor  composed  of  Montini,  Vittoria,  Irma,  and 
Lebruno.    Michiella  is  in  despair  ;  Count  Orso  is  profoundly 


THE  OrEEA  OF  CAMILLA.  181 

sonorous  with  paternity  and  devotion  to  the  law.  He  has 
restored  to  Camilla  a  portion  of  her  mother's  sequestrated 
estates.  A  portion  of  the  remainder  will  be  handed  over  to 
her  when  he  has  had  experience  of  her  husband's  good 
behaviour.  The  rest  he  considers  legally  his  own  by  rig-ht 
of  documents  (Treaties),  and  by  right  of  possession  and  his 
sword.  Yonder  castle  he  must  keep.  It  is  the  key  of  all 
his  other  territories.  Without  it,  his  position  will  be 
insecure.  (Allusion  to  the  Austrian  argument  that  the 
plains  of  Lombardy  are  the  strategic  defensive  lines  of  the 
Alps.) 

Agostino,  pursued  by  his  terror  of  anti-climax,  ran  from 
the  sight  of  Vittoria  when  she  was  called,  after  the  fall  of 
the  curtain.  He  made  his  way  to  Rocco  Ricci  (who  had 
given  his  bow  to  the  public  from  his  perch),  and  found  the 
maesti'o  drinking  Asti  to  counteract  his  natural  excitement. 
Rocco  told  Agostino  that,  up  to  the  last  moment,  neither  he 
nor  any  soul  behind  the  scenes  knew  Vittoria  would  be  able 
to  appear,  except  that  she  had  sent  a  note  to  him  with  a 
pledge  to  be  in  readiness  for  the  call.  Irma  had  come  flying 
in  late,  enraged,  and  in  disorder,  praying  to  take  Camilla's . 
part ;  but  Montini  refused  to  act  with  the  seconda  donna  as 
prima  donna.  They  had  commenced  the  opera  in  uncertainty 
whether  it  could  go  on  beyond  the  situation  where  Camilla 
presents  herself.  "  I  M-as  prepared  to  throw  up  my  baton," 
said  Rocco,  "  and  publicly  to  charge  the  Government  with 
the  rape  of  our  prima  donna.  Irma  I  was  ready  to  replace. 
I  could  have  filled  that  gap."  He  spoke  of  Vittoria's 
triumph.  Agostino's  face  darkened.  "  Ha  !"  said  he,  "  pro- 
vided we  don't  fall  flat,  like  your  Asti  with  the  cork  out.  I 
should  have  prefen^ed  an  enthusiasm  a  trifle  more  progi-es- 
sive.  The  notion  of  travelling  backwards  is  upon  mo 
forcibly,  after  that  tempest  of  acclamation." 

"  Or  do  you  think  that  you  have  put  your  best  poetry  in 
the  first  Act  ?"  Rocco  suggested  with  malice. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !"  Agostino  repudiated  the  idea  very 
angi'ily,  and  puffed  and  puffed.  Yet  he  said,  "  I  should  not 
be  lamenting  if  the  opera  were  stopped  at  once." 

"No!"  cried  Rocco;  "let  us  have  our  one  night.  I 
l_)!irgain  for  tliat.  Medole  has  played  us  false,  but  we  go  on. 
We  are  victims  already,  my  Agostino." 

But  I  do  stipulate,"  said  Agostino,  "  that  my  jewel  ia 


(( 


182  VITTORIA. 

not  to  melt  lierself  in  the  cup  to-night.  I  must  see  her.  As 
it  is,  she  is  inevitahly  down  in  the  list  for  a  week's  or  a 
nioiith's  incarceration." 

Antonio-Pericles  had  this,  in  his  case,  singular  piece  of 
delicacy,  that  he  refrained  from  the  attempt  to  see  Vittoria 
immediately  after  he  had  flung  his  magnificent  bouquet  of 
treasure  at  her  feet.  In  his  intoxication  with  the  success 
which  he  had  foreseen  and  cradled  to  its  apogee,  he  was  now 
reckless  of  any  consequences.  He  felt  ready  to  take  patriotic 
Italy  in  his  arms,  provided  that  it  would  not  succeed  as  Vit- 
toria had  done,  and  on  the  spot.  Her  singing  of  the  severe 
phrases  of  the  opening  chant,  or  hymn,  had  turned  the  man, 
and  for  a  time  had  put  a  new  heart  in  him.  The  consolation 
was  his  also,  that  he  had  rewarded  it  the  most  splendidly — 
as  it  were,  in  golden  italics  of  praise  ;  so  that  her  forgiveness 
of  his  disinterested  endeavour  to  transplant  her  was  certain, 
and  perhaps  her  future  implicit  obedience  or  allegiance 
bought.     Meeting  General  Pierson,  the  latter  rallied  him. 

"  Why,  my  fine  Pericles,  your  scheme  to  get  this  girl  out 
of  the  way  was  capitally  concerted.  My  only  fear  is  that  on 
another  occasion  the  Government  will  take  another  view  of 
it  and  you." 

Pericles  shrugged.  "  The  Gods,  my  dear  General,  decree. 
I  did  my  best  to  lay  a  case  before  them ;  that  is  all." 

"  Ah,  well !  I  am  of  opinion  you  will  not  lay  many  other 
cases  before  the  Gods  who  rule  in  Milan." 

"  I  have  helped  them  to  a  good  opera." 

"  Are  you  aware  that  this  opera  consists  entirely  of  political 
allusions  ?" 

General  Pierson  spoke  offensively,  as  the  urbane  Austrian 
military  permitted  themselves  to  do  upon  occasion  when 
addressing  the  conquered  or  civilians. 

"  To  me,"  returned  Pericles,  "  an  opera — it  is  music.  I 
know  no  more." 

"  You  are  responsible  for  it,"  said  the  General,  harshly. 
"  It  was  taken  upon  trust  from  you." 

"  Brutal  Austrians  !"  Pericles  murmured.  "  And  you  do 
not  think  much  of  her  voice,  General  ?" 

"  Pretty  fair,  sir." 

"  What  wonder  she  does  not  care  to  open  her  throat  to 
these  swine !"  thought  the  changed  Greek. 

Vittoria 's  door  was  shut  to  Agostino.     No  voice  within 


■•to^ 


THE  OPERA  OF  CAMILLA.  183 

gave  answer.     He  tried  the  lock  of  the  door,  and  departed. 
She  sat  in  a  stupor.     It  was  harder  for  her  to  make  a  second 
appearance  than  it  was  to  make  the  first,  when  the  shameful 
suspicion  cruelly  attached  to  her  had  helped  to  balance  her 
steps   with  rebellious  pride ;   and  more,  the  great  collected 
wave  of  her  ambitious  yeai\s  of  girlhood  had  cast  her  forward 
to  the  spot,  as  in  a  last  effort  for  consummation.     Now  that 
she  had  won  the  public  voice  (love,  her  heart  called  it)  her 
eyes  looked  inward  ;  she  meditated  upon  what  she  had  to  do, 
and  coughed  nervously.      She  frightened  herself  with  her 
coughing,  and  shivered  at  the  prospect  of  again  going  forward 
in  the  great  nakedness   of  stage-lights  and  thirsting  eyes. 
And,  moreover,  she  was  not  strengthened  by  the  character  of 
the  music  and  the  poetry  of  the  second  Act : — a  knowledge 
of  its  somewhat  inferior  quality  may  possibly  have  been  at 
the  root  of  Agostino's  dread  of  an  anticlimax.     The  seconda 
donna  had  the  chief  part  in  it — notably  an  aria  (Rocco  had 
given  it  to  her  in  compassion)  that  suited  Irma's  pure  shrieks 
and  the  tragic  skeleton  she  could  be.     Vittoria  knew  how 
low  she  was  sinking  when  she  found  her  soul  in  the  shallows 
of  a  sort  of  jealoiasy  of  Irma.     For  a  little  space  she  lost  all 
intimacy  with  hei-self ;  she  looked  at  her  face  in  the  glass 
and  swallowed  water,  thinking  that  she  had  strained  a  dream 
and  confused  her  bi'ain  with  it.     The  silence  of  her  solitary 
room  coming  upon  the  blaze  of  light — the  colour  and  clamour 
of  the  house,  and  the  strange  i-emembrance  of   the  recent 
impersonation  of  an  ideal  character,  smote  her  with  the  sense 
of  her  having  fallen  from  a  mighty  eminence,  and  that  she 
lay  in  the  dust.     All  those  incense-breathing  flowers  heaped 
on  her  table  seemed  poisonous,  and  reproached  her  as  a  delu- 
sion.    She   sat  crouching  alone  till  her  tire-women  called ; 
horrible  talkative  things  !  her  own  familiar  maid  Giacinta 
being  the  worst  to  bear  with. 

Now,  Michiella,  by  making  love  to  Leonardo,  Camillo's 
associate,  discovers  that  Camillo  is  conspiring  against  her 
father.  She  utters  to  Leonardo  very  pleasant  promises 
indeed,  if  he  will  betray  his  friend.  Leonardo,  a  waveriag 
baritone,  complains  that  love  should  ask  for  any  return  savo 
in  the  coin  of  the  empire  of  love.  He  is  seduced,  and  invokes 
a  malediction  upon  his  head  should  he  accomplish  Avhat  he 
has  sworn  to  perform.     Camilla  reposes  pei-fect  confidence  in 


-     184  VITTOKIA. 

tliis  wretcli,  and  brings  her  more  doubtful  busband  to  be  of 
her  mind. 

Camillo  and  Camilla  agi^ee  to  wear  the  mask  of  a 
dissipated  couple.  They  throw  their  mansion  open  ; 
dicing,  betting,  intriguing,  revellings,  maskings,  commence. 
Michiella  is  courted  ardently  by  Camillo  ;  Camilla  trifles 
with  Leonardo  and  with  Count  Orso  alternately.  Jealous 
again  of  Camilla,  Michiella  warns  and  threatens  Leonardo; 
but  she  becomes  Camillo's  dupe,  partly  from  returning  love, 
partly  from  desire  for  vengeance  on  her  rival.  Camilla  per- 
suades Orso  to  discard  Michiella.  The  infatuated  couut 
waxes  as  the  personification  of  portentous  burlesque ;  he  is 
having  everything  his  own  way.  The  acting  throughout — 
owing  to  the  real  gravity  of  the  vast  basso  Lebruno's  bur- 
lesque, and  Vittoria's  archness — was  that  of  high  comedy 
with  a  lurid  background.  Vittoria  showed  an  enchanting 
spirit  of  humour.  She  sang  one  bewitching  barcarole  that 
set  the  house  in  rocking  motion.  There  was  such  melancholy 
in  her  heart  that  she  cast  herself  into  all  the  flippancy  with 
abandonment.  The  Act  was  weak  in  too  distinctly  revealing 
the  finger  of  the  poetic  political  squib  at  a  point  here  and 
there.  The  temptation  to  do  it  of  an  Agostino,  who  had  no 
other  outlet,  had  been  irresistible,  and  he  sat  moaning  over 
his  artistic  depravity,  now  that  it  stared  him  in  the  face. 
Applause  scarcely  consoled  him,  and  it  was  with  humiliation 
of  mind  that  he  acknowledged  his  debt  to  the  music  and  the 
singers,  and  how  little  they  owed  to  him. 

Now  Camillo  is  pleased  to  receive  the  ardent  passion  of  his 
wife,  and  the  masking  suits  his  taste,  but  it  is  the  vice  of  his 
character  that  he  cannot  act  to  any  degree  subordinately  in 
concert ;  he  insists  upon  his  own  positive  headship  ! — (allu- 
sion to  an  Italian  weakness  for  sovereignties  ;  it  passed  unob- 
served, and  Agostino  chuckled  bitterly  over  his  excess  of 
subtlety).  Camillo  cannot  leave  the  scheming  to  her.  He 
pursues  Michiella  to  subdue  her  with  blandishments.  Re- 
proaches cease  upon  her  part.  There  is  a  duo  between  them. 
They  exchange  the  silver  keys,  which  express  absolute  inti- 
macy, and  give  mutual  freedom  of  access.  Camillo  can  now 
secrete  his  followers  in  the  castle  ;  Michiella  can  enter 
Camilla's  blue-room,  and  ravage  her  caskets  for  treasonable 
correspondence.  Artfully  she  bids  him  reflect  on  what  she 
is  forfeiting  for  him;  and  so  helps  him  to  put  aside  the 


THE  OPEEA  OP  CAMILLA.  185 

thought  of  that  which  he  also  may  be  imperilling.  Irma's 
shrill  ci-escendos  and  octave-leaps,  assisted  by  her  peculiar 
attitudes  of  strangulation,  came  out  well  in  this  scene.  The 
murmui'S  concerning  the  sour  privileges  to  be  granted  by  a 
Lazzeruola  were  inaudible.  But  there  has  been  a  witness  to 
the  stipulation.  The  ever-shifting  baritono,  from  behind  a 
pillar,  has  joined  in  with  an  aside  phrase  here  and  there. 
Leonardo  discovers  that  his  fealty  to  Camilla  is  reviving. 
He  determines  to  watch  over  her.  Camillo  now  tosses  a 
perfumed  handkerchief  under  his  nose,  and  inhales  the  cox- 
combical incense  of  the  idea  that  he  will  do  all  without 
Camilla's  aid,  to  surprise  her ;  thereby  teaching  her  to  know 
him  to  be  somewhat  a  hero.  She  has  played  her  part  so 
thoroughly  that  he  can  choose  to  fancy  her  a  giddy  person  ; 
he  remarks  upon  the  frequent  instances  of  girls  who  in  their 
girlhood  were  wild  dreamers  becoming  after  marriage  wild 
wives.  His  followers  assemble  that  he  may  take  advantage 
of  the  exchanged  key  of  silver.  He  is  moved  to  seek  one 
embrace  of  Camilla  before  the  conflict : — she  is  beautiful ! 
There  was  never  such  beauty  as  hers !  He  goes  to  her  in 
the  fittest  preparation  for  the  pangs  of  jealousy.  But  he 
has  not  been  foremost  in  practising  the  uses  of  silver  keys. 
Michiella,  having  first  arranged  with  her  father  to  be  before 
Camillo's  doors  at  a  certain  hour  with  men-at-arms,  is  in 
Camilla's  private  chamber,  with  her  hand  upon  a  pregnant 
box  of  ebony  wood,  when  she  is  startled  by  a  noise,  and  slips 
into  concealment.  Leonardo  bursts  through  the  casement 
window.  Camilla  then  appears.  Leonardo  stretches  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  out  to  her;  on  his  knees  confesses  his 
guilt  and  warns  her.  Camillo  comes  in.  Thrusting  herself 
-before  him,  Michiella  points  to  the  stricken  couple — "  See  ! 
it  is  to  show  you  this  that  I  am  here."  Behold  occasion  for 
a  grand  quatuor  ! 

While  confessing  his  guilt  to  Camilla,  Leonardo  has  ex- 
cused it  by  an  emphatic  delineation  of  Michiella's  magic 
sway  over  him.  (Leonardo,  in  fact,  is  your  small  modern 
Italian  Machiavelli,  overmatched  in  cunning,  for  the  reason 
th;it  he  is  always  at  a  last  moment  the  victim  of  his  poor  bit 
of  lic.'U't  or  lioiicsty  :  he  is  devoid  of  Ihe  inspii-ition  of  great 
j)atriotic  aims.)  If  Michiella  (Austrian  intrigue)  has  any 
love,  it  is  for  such  a  tool.  She  cannot  afford  to  lose  him. 
She  pleads  for  him ;  and,  as  Camilla  is  silent  on  his  account, 


186  VITTOEIA. 

the  cynical  magnanimity  of  Camillo  is  predisposed  to  spare 
a  fangless  snake.  Michiella  withdraws  him  from  the  naked 
sword  to  the  back  of  the  stage.  The  terrible  repudiation 
scene  ensues,  in  which  Camillo  casts  off  his  wife.  If  it  was 
a  puzzle  to  one  Italian  half  of  the  audience,  the  other  com- 
prehended it  perfectly,  and  with  rapture.  It  was  thus  that 
Young  Italy  had  too  often  been  treated  by  the  compromis- 
ing, merely  discontented,  dallying  aristocracy.  Camilla  cries 
to  him,  "  Have  faith  in  me  !  have  faith  in  me  !  have  faith  in 
me !"  That  is  the  sole  answer  to  his  accusations,  his  threats 
of  eternal  loathing,  and  generally  blustering  sublimities. 
She  cannot  defend  herself :  she  only  knows  her  innocence. 
He  is  inexorable,  being  the  guilty  one  of  the  two.  Turning 
from  him  with  crossed  arms,  Camilla  sings : — 

"Mother  !  it  is  my  fate  that  I  should  know 
Thy  miseries,  and  in  thy  footprints  go. 
Grief  treads  the  starry  places  of  the  earth  : 
In  thy  long  track  I  feel  who  gave  me  birth. 
I  am  alone  ;  a  wife  without  a  lord  ; 
My  home  is  with  the  stranger — home  abhorr'd ! — 
But  that  I  trust  to  meet  thy  spirit  there. 
Mother  of  Sorrows  I  joy  thou  canst  not  share  : 
So  let  me  wander  in  among  the  tombs, 
Among  the  cypresses  and  the  withered  blooms. 
Thy  soul  is  with  dead  suns  :  there  let  me  be  ; 
A  silent  thing  that  shares  thy  veil  with  thee." 

The  wonderful  viol -like  trembling  of  the  contralto  tones 
thrilled  through  the  house.  It  was  the  highest  homage  to 
Vittoria  that  no  longer  any  shouts  arose :  nothing  but  a  pro- 
longed murmur,  as  when  one  tells  another  a  tale  of  deep 
emotion,  and  all  exclamations,  all  ulterior  thoughts,  all 
gathered  tenderness  of  sensibility,  are  reserved  for  the  close, 
are  seen  heaping  for  the  close,  like  waters  above  a  dam. 
The  flattery  of  beholding  a  great  assembly  of  human  crea- 
tures bound  glittering  in  wizard  subservience  to  the  voice  of 
one  soul,  belongs  to  the  artist,  and  is  the  cantatrice's  glory, 
pre-eminent  over  whatever  poor  glory  this  world  gives.  She 
felt  it,  but  she  felt  it  as  something  apart.  Within  her  was 
the  struggle  of  Italy  calling  to  Italy :  Italy's  shame,  hei- 
sadness,  her  tortures,  her  quenchless  hope,  and  the  view  of 
Freedom.  It  sent  her  blood  about  her  body  in  rebellious 
volumes.  Once  it  completely  strangled  her  notes.  She 
dropped  the  ball  of  her  chin  in  her  throat ;  paused  without 


THE  OPERA  OP  CAMILLA.  187 

ceremony,  and  recovered  herself.     Vittoria  had  too  severe 

an  artistic  irwstincfc  to  court  reality ;  and  as  mucli  as  she 
could  she  from  that  moment  corrected  the  underlinings  of 
Agostino's  libretto. 

"On  the  other  hand,  Irma  fell  into  all  his  traps,  and  painted 
her  Austrian  heart  with  a  prodigal  waste  of  coloui'  and  frank 
eneigj : — 

•'  Now  Leonardo  is  my  tool : 
CamUla  is  my  slave  : 
And  she  I  bate  goes  forth  to  cool 
Her  rage  beyond  the  wave. 

Joy  !  joy  I 
Paid  am  I  in  full  coin  for  my  caressing  ; 
I  take,  but  give  nought,  ere  the  priestly  blessing." 

A  subtle  distinction.  She  insists  upon  her  reverence  for 
the  priestly  (papistical)  blessing,  while  she  confides  her 
determination  to  have  it  dispensed  with  in  Camilla's  case. 
Ii'ma's  known  sympathies  with  the  Austrian  uniform  seasoned 
the  ludicrousness  of  many  of  the  doul)le-edged  verses  which 
she  sang  or  declaimed  in  recitative.  The  irony  of  applaud- 
ing her  vehemently  was  irresistil)le. 

Camilla  is  charged  with  conspiracy,  and  proved  guilty  by 
her  own  admission. 

The  Act  ends  with  the  entry  of  Count  Orso  and  his  force ; 
conspirators  overawed ;  Camilla  repudiated ;  Count  Orso 
imperially  just;  Leonardo  chagrined;  Camillo  pardoned; 
Michiella  triumphant.  Camillo  sacrifices  his  wife  for  safety. 
He  holds  her  estates ;  and  therefore  Count  Orso,  whose 
respect  for  law  causes  him  to  have  a  keen  eye  for  matri- 
monial alliances,  is  now  j)aternally  willing,  and  even  anxious 
to  bestow  Michiella  upon  him  when  the  Pontifical  divorce 
can  be  obtained ;  so  that  the  long-coveted  fruitful  acres  may 
be  in  the  family.  The  chorus  sings  a  song  of  praise  to 
Hymen,  the  '  builder  of  gi-eat  Houses.'  Camilla  goes  forth 
into  exile.  The  word  was  not  spoken,  but  the  mention  of 
'  bread  of  strangers,  strange  faces,  cold  climes,'  said  suffi- 
cient. 

"  It  is  a  question  whether  we  ought  to  sit  still  and  see  a 
firebrand  flashed  in  our  faces,"  Genei-al  Pierson  remarked  as 
the  curtain  fell.  He  was  talking  to  Major  de  Pyrmont  out- 
side the  Uuchess  of  Graiitli's  box.  Two  General  olliccrs 
joined   them,    and   preaently    Count  Scrabiglioue,  with   hia 


188  VITTORIA. 

courtliest  semi-ironical  smile,  on  whom  ttey  straightway 
turned  their  backs.  The  insult  was  happily  unseen,  and  the 
count  caressed  his  shaven  chin  and  smiled  himself  onward. 
The  point  for  the  officers  to  decide  was,  whether  they  dared 
oft'end  an  enthusiastic  house — the  fiery  core  of  the  popula- 
tion of  Milan — by  putting  a  stop  to  the  opera  before  worse 
should  come.  Their  own  views  were  entirely  military ;  but 
they  were  paralyzed  by  the  recent  pseudo-liberal istic  des- 
patches fi-om  Vienna ;  and  agreed,  with  some  malice  in  their 
shrugs,  that  the  odium  might  as  well  be  left  on  the  shoulders 
of  the  bureau  which  had  examined  the  libretto.  In  fact,  they 
saw  that  there  woiild  be  rank  peril  in  attempting  to  arrest 
the  course  of  things  within  the  walls  of  the  house. 

"  The  temper  of  this  people  is  changing  oddly,"  said 
General  Pierson.  Major  de  Pyrmont  listened  awhile  to  what 
they  had  to  say,  and  returned  to  the  duchess.  Amalia 
wrote  these  lines  to  Laura  : — 

"  If  she  sings  that  song  she  is  to  be  seized  on  the  wings  of 
the  stage.  I  order  my  carriage  to  be  in  readiness  to  take 
her  whither  she  should  have  gone  last  night.  Do  you  con- 
trive only  her  escape  from  the  house.  Georges  de  P.  will 
aid  you.     I  adore  the  naughty  rebel  !" 

Major  de  Pyrmont  delivered  the  missive  at  Laura's  box. 
He  went  down  to  the  duchess's  chasseur,  and  gave  him  cer- 
tain commands  and  money  for  a  journey.  Looking  about, 
he  beheld  Wilfrid,  Avho  implored  him  to  take  his  place  for 
tw^o  minutes.  De  Pyrmont  laughed.  "  She  is  superb,  my 
friend.  Come  up  with  me.  1  am  going  behind  the  scenes. 
The  unfortunate  impresario  is  a  ruined  man  ;  let  us  both 
condole  with  him.  It  is  possible  that  he  has  children,  and 
children  like  bread." 

Wilfrid  was  linking  his  arm  to  De  Pyrmont's,  when,  with 
a  vivid  recollection  of  old  times,  he  glanced  at  his  uniform 
with  Vittoria's  eyes.  "  She  would  spit  at  me !"  he  muttered, 
and  dropped  behind. 

Up  in  her  room  Vittoria  held  council  with  Rocco,  Agostino, 
and  the  impresario,  Salvolo,  who  was  partly  their  dupe. 
Salvolo  had  laid  a  freshly-written  injunction  from  General 
Pierson  before  her,  bidding  him  to  exclude  the  chief  solo 
parts  from  the  Third  Act,  and  to  bring  it  speedily  to  a  ter- 
mination. His  case  was,  that  he  had  been  ready  to  forfeit 
much  if  a  rising  followed;  but  that   simply  to  beard  the 


THE  OPERA  OF  CAMILLA.  189 

authorities  was  madness.  He  stated  his  case  by  no  means 
as  a  pleader,  although  the  impression  made  on  him  by  the 
prima  donna's  success  caused  his  urgency  to  be  civil. 

"  Strike  out  what  you  please,"  said  Vittoria. 

Agostino  smote  her  with  a  forefinger,  "  Rogue !  you 
deserve  an  imperial  crown.  You  have  been  educated  for 
monarchy.  You  are  ready  enough  to  dispense  with  what 
you  don't  care  for,  and  what  is  not  your  own." 

Much  of  the  time  was  lost  by  Agostino's  dispute  with 
Salvolo.  They  haggled  and  wrangled  laucfhingly  over  this 
and  that  printed  aria,  but  it  was  a  deplorable  deception  of 
the  unhappy  man ;  and  with  Vittoria's  stronger  resolve  to 
sing  the  incendiary  song,  the  more  necessary  it  was  for  her 
to  have  her  soul  clear  of  deceit.  She  said,  "  Signor  Salvolo, 
you  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  would  do  nothing  to 
hurt  your  interests.  I  suppose  you  must  suffer  for  being  an 
Italian,  like  the  rest  of  us.  The  song  I  mean  to  sing  is  not 
written  or  printed.  What  is  in  the  book  cannot  harm  you, 
for  the  censorship  has  passed  it ;  and  surely  I  alone  am 
responsible  for  singing  what  is  not  in  the  book — I  and  the 
maestro.  He  supports  me.  We  have  both  taken  precau- 
tions" (she  smiled)  "to  secure  our  property.  If  you  are 
despoiled,  we  will  share  with  you.  And  believe,  oh  !  in 
God's  name,  believe  that  you  will  not  suffer  to  no  purpose  !" 

Salvolo  started  from  her  in  a  horror  of  amazement.  He 
declared  that  he  had  been  miserably  deceived  and  entrapped. 
He  threatened  to  send  the  company  to  their  homes  forthwith. 
"Dare  to!"  said  Agostino;  and  to  judge  by  the  temper  of 
the  house,  it  was  only  too  certain  that,  if  he  did  so.  La 
Scala  would  be  a  wrecked  tenement  in  the  eye  of  morning. 
But  Agostino  backed  his  entreaty  to  her  to  abjure  that  song; 
Rocco  gave  way,  and  half  shyly  requested  her  to  think  of 
prudence.  She  remembered  Laura,  and  Carlo,  and  her  poor 
little  frightened  foreign  mother.  Her  intense  ideal  concep- 
tion of  her  duty  sank  and  danced  within  her  brain  as  the 
pilot-star  dances  on  the  bows  of  a  tossing  vessel.  All  were 
against  her,  as  the  tempest  is  against  the  ship.  Even  light 
above  (by  which  I  would  image  that  which  she  could  appeal 
to  pleading  in  behalf  of  the  wisdom  of  her  obstinate  will) 
was  dyed  black  in  the  sweeping  obscuration ;  she  failed  to 
recollect  a  sentence  that  Avas  to  be  said  to  vindicate  her 
settled  course.     Htr  solo  idea  was  her  holding  her  country 


190 


VITTOKIA. 


by  an  nnseen  thread,  and  of  the  everlasting  welfare  of  Italy 
b  "ing  jeopardized  if  she  relaxed  her  hold.  Simple  obstinacy 
of  will  sustained  her.  You  mariners  batten  down  the  hatch- 
ways when  the  heavens  are  dark  and  seas  are  angry. 
Vittoria,  with  the  same  faith  in  her  instinct,  shut  the 
avennes  to  her  senses — would  see  nothing,  hear  nothing.  The 
impresario's  figure  of  despair  touched  her  later.  Giacinta 
drove  him  forth  in  the  act  of  smiting  his  forehead  with  both 
hands.  She  did  the  same  for  Agostino  and  Rocco,  who  were 
not  demonsti-ative. 

They  knew  that  by  this  time  the  agents  of  the  Govern- 
ment were  in  all  probability  ransacking  their  rooms,  and 
confiscating  their  goods. 

"  Is  your  piano  hired  ?"  quoth  the  former. 

"No,"  said  the  latter,  "  are  your  slippers  ?" 

Thej  went  their  separate  ways,  laughing. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  THIRD  ACT. 


The  libretto  of  the  Third  Act  was  steeped  in  the  sentiment 
of  Young  Italy.  I  wish  that  I  could  pipe  to  your  mind's 
hearing  any  notion  of  the  fine  music  of  Rocco  Ricci,  and 
touch  you  to  feel  the  revelations  which  were  in  this  new 
voice.  Rocco  and  Vittoria  gave  the  verses  a  life  that  cannot 
belong  to  them  now ;  yet,  as  they  contain  much  of  the  vital 
spirit  of  the  revolt,  they  may  assist  you  to  some  idea  of  the 
faith  animating  its  heads,  and  may  serve  to  justify  this 
history. 

Rocco's  music  in  the  opera  of  Camilla  had  been  sprung 
from  a  fresh  Italian  well ;  neither  the  elegiac-melodious,  nor 
the  sensuous-lyrical,  nor  the  joyous  buffo ;  it  was  severe  as 
an  old  masterpiece,  with  veins  of  buoyant  liveliness  thread- 
ing it,  and  with  sufficient  distinctness  of  melody  to  enrapture 
those  who  like  to  suck  the  sugar-plums  of  sound.  He  would 
indeed  have  favoured  the  public  with  more  sweet  things,  but 
Vittoria,  for  whom  the  opera  was  composed,  and  who  had 
been  at  his  elbow,  was  young,  and  stern  in  her  devotion  to 


THE  THIRD  ACT.  i91 

an  ideal  of  classical  music  that  should  elevate  and  never 
stoop  to  seduce  or  to  flatter  thoughtless  hearers.  Her  taste 
had  directed  as  her  voice  had  inspired  the  opera.  Her  voice 
belonged  to  the  order  of  the  simply  great  voices,  and  was  a 
royal  voice  among  them.  Pure  without  attenuation,  pas- 
sionate without  contortion,  when  once  heard  it  exacted 
absolute  confidence.  On  this  night,  her  theme  and  her 
impersonation  were  adventitious  introductions,  but  there 
were  passages  when  her  artistic  pre-eminence  and  the  sove- 
reign fulness  and  fire  of  her  singing  struck  a  note  of  grateful 
remembered  delight.  This  is  what  the  great  voice  does  for 
us.  It  rarely  astonishes  our  ears.  It  illumines  our  soul&, 
as  you  see  the  lightning  make  the  unintelligible  craving 
darkness  leap  into  long  mountain  ridges,  and  twisting  vales, 
and  spires  of  cities,  and  inner  recesses  of  light  within  light, 
rose-like,  toward  a  central  core  of  violet  heat. 

At  the  rising  of  the  curtain  the  knights  of  the  plains, 
Rudolfo,  Romualdo,  Arnoldo,  and  others,  who  were  con- 
spiring to  overthrow  Count  Orso  at  the  time  when  Camillo's 
folly  ruined  all,  assemble  to  deplore  Camilla's  banishment, 
and  show,  bereft  of  her,  their  helplessness  and  indecision. 
They  utter  contempt  of  Camillo,  who  is  this  day  to  be  Pon- 
tifically  divorced  from  his  wife  to  espouse  the  detested 
Michiella.  His  taste  is  not  admired.  They  pass  off. 
Camillo  appears.  He  is,  as  he  knows,  little  better  than  a 
pensioner  in  Count  Orso's  household.  He  holds  his  lands 
on  sufferance.  His  faculties  are  paralyzed.  He  is  on  the 
first  smooth  shoulder-slope  of  the  catai-act.  He  knows  that 
not  only  was  his  jealousy  of  his  wife  groundless,  but  it  was 
f'jrced  hj  a  spleenful  pride.  What  is  there  to  do  ?  Nothing, 
save  resignedly  to  prepare  for  his  divorce  from  the  con- 
spiratrix  Camilla  and  espousals  with  Michiella.  The  cup  is 
bitter,  and  his  song  is  mournful.  He  does  the  rarest  thing 
a  man  will  do  in  such  a  predicament — he  acknowledges  that 
he  is  going  to  get  his  deserts.  The  faithfulness  and  purity 
of  Camilla  have  struck  his  iuner  consciousness.  He  knows 
not  where  she  may  be.  He  has  secretly  sent  messengers  in 
all  directions  to  seek  her,  and  recover  her,  and  obtain  her 
pardon :  in  vain.  It  is  as  well,  perhaps,  that  ho  should 
never  see  her  more.  Accursed,  he  has  cast  oft'  his  sweetest 
friend.  The  craven  heart  could  never  beat  iu  unison  with 
hora. 


192  VITTORIA. 

"  She  is  in  tlie  darkness  :  I  am  in  the  light.  I  acn  a  blot 
upon  the  light ;  she  is  light  in  the  dai'kness." 

Montini  poured  this  out  with  so  fine  a  sentiment  that  the 
impatience  of  the  house  for  sight  of  its  heroine  was  quieted. 
But  Irma  and  Lebruno  came  forward  barely  under  tolerance. 

"We  might  as  well  be  thumping  a  tambourine,"  said 
Lebruno,  during  a  caress.  Irma  bit  her  underlip  with 
mortification.  Their  notes  fell  flat  as  bullets  against  a 
wall. 

This  circumstance  aroused  the  ire  of  Antonio-Pericles 
against  the  libretto  and  revolutionists.  "  I  perceive,"  he 
said,  grinning  savagely,  "  it  has  come  to  be  a  concert,  not 
an  opera ;  it  is  a  musical  harangue  in  the  market-place. 
Illusion  goes  :  it  is  politics  here  !" 

Carlo  Ammiani  was  sitting  with  his  mother  and  Luciano 
breathlessly  awaiting  the  entrance  of  Vittoria.  The  inner 
box-door  was  rudely  shaken  :  beneath  it  a  slip  of  paper  had 
been  thrust.  He  read  a  warning  to  him  to  quit  the  house 
instantly.  Luciano  and  his  mother  both  councilled  his 
departure.  The  detestable  initials  "  B.  R.,"  and  the  one 
word  "  Sbirri,"  revealed  who  had  warned,  and  what  was 
the  danger.  His  friend's  advice  and  the  commands  of  his 
mother  failed  to  move  him.  "  When  I  have  seen  her  safe ; 
not  before,"  he  said. 

Countess  Ammiani  addressed  Luciano  :  "  This  is  a  young 
man's  love  for  a  woman." 

"  The  woman  is  worth  it,"  Luciano  replied. 

"  No  woman  is  worth  the  sacrifice  of  a  mother  and  of  a 
relative." 

"  Dearest  countess,"  said  Luciano,  "  look  at  the  pit ;  it's  a 
cauldron.  We  shall  get  him  out  presently,  have  no  fear : 
tbere  will  soon  be  hubbub  enough  to  let  Lucifer  escape 
unseen.  If  nothing  is  done  to-night,  he  and  I  will  be  off  to 
the  Lago  di  Garda  to-morrow  morning,  and  fish  and  shoot, 
and  talk  with  Catullus." 

The  countess  gazed  on  her  son  with  sorrowful  sternness. 
His  eyes  had  taken  that  bright  glazed  look  which  is  an 
indication  of  frozen  brain  and  turbulent  heart — madness 
that  sane  men  enamoured  can  be  struck  by.  She  knew 
there  was  no  appeal  to  it. 

A  very  dull  continuous  sound,  like  that  of  an  angry 
swarm,  or  more  like  a  rapid  muffled  thrumming  of  wires, 


THE  THIRD  ACT.  193 

was  heard.  The  audience  had  caught  view  of  a  brown- 
coated  soldier  at  one  of  the  wings.  The  curious  Croat  had 
merely  gratified  a  desire  to  have  a  glance  at  the  semicircle 
of  crowded  heads ;  he  withdrew  his  own,  but  not  before  he 
had  awakened  the  wild  beast  in  the  throng.  Yet  a  little 
while  and  the  roar  of  the  beast  would  have  burst  out.  It 
was  thought  that  Vittoria  had  been  seized  or  interdicted 
from  appearing.  Conspirators — the  knights  of  the  plains — 
meet :  Rudolfos,  Romualdos,  Arnoldos,  and  others, — so  that 
you  know  Camilla  is  not  idle.  She  comes  on  in  the  great 
scene  which  closes  the  opei^a. 

It  is  the  banqueting  hall  of  the  castle.  The  Pontifical 
divorce  is  spread  upon  the  table.  Courtly  friends,  guards, 
and  a  choric  bridal  company,  form  a  circle. 

"  I  have  obtained  it,"  says  Count  Orso:  "  but  at  a  cost." 

Leonardo,  wavering  eternally,  lets  us  know  that  it  is 
weighted  with  a  proviso :  IF  Camilla  shall  not  present 
herself  within  a  certain  term,  this  being  the  last  day  of  it. 
Camillo  comes  forward.  Too  late,  he  has  perceived  his 
faults  and  weakness.  He  has  cast  his  beloved  from  his 
arms  to  clasp  them  on  despair.  The  choric  bridal  comjjany 
gives  intervening  strophes.  Cavaliers  enter.  "  Look  at 
them  well,"  says  Leonardo.  They  are  the  knights  of  the 
plains.  "  They  have  come  to  mock  me,"  Camillo  exclaims, 
and  avoids  them. 

Leonardo,  Michiella,  and  Camillo  now  sing  a  trio  that  is 
tricuspidato,  or  a  three- pointed  manner  of  declaring  their 
divergent  sentiments  in  harmony.  The  fast-gathering  cava- 
liers lend  masculine  character  to  the  choric  refrains  at  every 
interval.  Leonardo  plucks  Michiella  entreatingly  by  the 
arm.  She  spurns  him.  He  has  served  her;  she  needs  him 
no  more ;  but  she  will  recommend  him  in  other  quarters, 
and  bids  him  to  seek  them.  "  I  will  give  thee  a  collar  for 
thy  neck,  marked  '  Faithful.'  It  is  the  utmost  I  can  do  for 
thy  species."  Leonardo  thinks  that  he  is  insulted,  but  there 
is  a  vestige  of  doubt  in  him  still.  "  She  is  so  fair  !  she  dis- 
sembles so  magnificently  ever  I  "  She  has  previously  told 
him  that  she  is  acting  a  part,  as  Camilla  did.  Irma  had 
shed  all  her  hair  from  a  golden  circlet  about  her  temples, 
hai-liarian-wisc.  Some  Hunnish  grandeur  pertained  to  her 
appearance,  and  partly  excu.sed  the  infatuated  wretch  who 

o 


194  VITTORIA. 

shivered  at  her  disdain  and  exulted  over  her  beauty  and  art- 
fulness. 

In  the  midst  of  the  chorus  there  is  one  veiled  figure  and 
one  voice  distinguishable.  This  voice  outlives  the  rest  at 
every  strophe,  and  contrives  to  add.  a  supplemental  anti- 
phonic  phrase  that  recalls  in  turn  the  favourite  melodies  of 
the  opera.  Camillo  hears  it,  but  takes  it  as  a  delusion  of 
impassioned  memory  and  a  mere  theme  for  the  recurring 
melodious  utterance  of  his  regrets.  Michiella  hears  it.  She 
chimes  with  the  third  notes  of  Camillo's  solo  to  inform  us  of 
her  suspicions  that  they  have  a  serpent  among  them. 
Leonardo  hears  it.  The  trio  is  formed.  Count  Orso,  with- 
out hearing  it,  makes  a  quatuor  by  inviting  the  bridal  couple 
to  go  thi-ough  the  necessary  formalities.  The  chorus  changes 
its  measure  to  one  of  hymeneals.  The  unknown  voice  closes 
it  ominously  with  three  bars  in  the  minor  key.  Michiella 
stalks  close  around  the  rank  singers  like  an  enragred  daughter 
of  Attila.  Stopping  in  front  of  the  veiled  figure,  she 
says — 

"  Why  is  it  thou  wearest  the  black  veil  at  my  nuptials  ?  " 

"  Because  my  time  of  mourning  is  not  yet  ended." 

"  Thou  standest  the  shadow  in  my  hapjiuess." 

*'  The  bright  sun  will  have  its  shadow." 

"  I  desire  that  all  rejoice  this  day." 

"My  hour  of  rejoicing  approaches." 

«'  Wilt  thou  unveil  ?  '' 

"  Dost  thou  ask  to  look  the  storm  in  the  face  ?  ** 

"  Wilt  thou  unveil  ?  " 

"  Art  thou  hungry  for  the  lightning  ?  " 

"  I  bid  thee  unveil,  woman  !  " 

Michiella's  ringing  shriek  of  command  produces  no 
response. 

"  It  is  she !  "  cries  Michiella,  from  a  contracted  bosom ; 
smitino:  it  with  clenched  hands. 

"  Swift  to  the  signatures.  0  rival !  what  bitterness  hast 
thou  come  hither  to  taste." 

Camilla  sings  aside  :  "If  yet  my  husband  loves  me  and  is 
true." 

Count  Orso  exclaims  :  "  Let  trumpets  sound  for  the  com- 
mencement of  the  festivities.  The  lord  of  his  country  may 
slumber  while  his  people  dance  and  drink !  " 

Trumpets  flourish.     Witnesses  are  called  about  the  table. 


THE  THIRD  ACT.  W) 

Camillo,  pen  in  hand,  prepares  for  the  supreme  act. 
Leonardo  at  one  wing  watches  the  eagerness  of  Michiella. 
The  chorus  chants  to  a  muted  measure  of  suspense,  while 
Camillo  dips  pen  in  ink. 

"  She  is  away  from  me  :  she  scorns  me :  she  is  lost  to  me. 
Life  without  honour  is  the  life  of  swine.  Union  without 
love  is  the  yoke  of  savage  beasts.  O  me  miserable  !  Can 
the  heavens  themselves  plumb  the  depth  of  my  degrada- 
tion ?  " 

Count  Orso  permits  a  half-tone  of  paternal  severity  to 
point  his  kindly  hint  that  time  is  passing.  When  he  was 
young,  he  says,  in  the  broad  and  benevolently  frisky  manner, 
he  would  have  signed  ere  the  eye  of  the  maiden  twinkled  her 
aflirmative,  or  the  goose  had  shed  its  quill. 

Camillo  still  trifles.     Then  he  dashes  the  pen  to  earth. 

"  Never !  I  have  but  one  wife.  Our  marriage  is  irre- 
vocable. The  dishonoured  man  is  the  everlasting"  outcast 
What  are  earthly  possessions  to  me,  if  within  myself  shame 
faces  me  ?  Let  all  go.  Though  I  have  lost  Camilla,  I  will 
be  worthy  of  her.  Not  a  pen — no  pen ;  it  is  the  sword  that 
T  must  write  with.  Strike,  O  count !  I  am  here  :  I  stand 
alone.  By  the  edge  of  this  sword,  I  swear  that  never  deed 
of  mine  shall  rob  Camilla  of  her  heritage  ;  though  I  die  the 
death,  she  shall  not  weep  for  a  craven  !  " 

The  multitude  break  away  from  Camilla — veiled  no  more, 
but  radiant ;  fresh  as  a  star  that  issues  through  corrupting 
vapours,  and  with  her  voice  at  a  starry  pitch  in  its  clear 
ascendency : — 

"  Tear  np  the  insufferable  scroll  1— 
O  thou,  my  lover  and  ni}'  soul ! 
It  is  the  ISword  that  reunites  ; 
The  Pen  that  our  perdition  writes.'* 


She  is  folded  in  her  husband's  arms. 
Michiella  fronts  them,  horrid  of  aspect  :— 

"  Accurst  divorced  one  I  dost  thou  dare 
To  lie  in  sliainclcss  loudness  there  ? 
Altundoned  1  on  tliy  lyiii};  lirow 
Thy  name  sliall  i)e  imprinted  now." 
02 


196  VITTOEIA. 

Camilla  parts  from  her  husband's  embrace  :— 

"My  name  is  one  I  do  not  fear; 
'Tis  one  that  thou  would'st  shrink  to  heari 
Go,  cool  thy  penitential  fires, 
Thou  creature,  foul  with  base  desires  1 " 

Camillo  {facing  Count  Orso). 
"  The  choice  is  thine  I " 

Count  Orso  (drams). 

"  The  choice  is  made  f* 

Cforus  (narrowing  its  circle). 

"  Familiar  is  that  naked  blade. 
Of  others,  of  himself,  the  fate — 
How  swift  'tis  Provocation's  mate !" 

MiCHiELLA  (torn  mith  jealous  rage), 

"  Yea  ;  I  could  smite  her  on  the  face. 
Father,  first  read  the  thing's  disgrace. 
I  grudge  them  honourable  death. 
Put  poison  in  their  latest  breath  1" 

Orso  (Ai.?  Irft  arm  extended), 

"  You  twain  are  sundered :  hear  with  awe 
The  judgement  of  the  Source  of  Law." 

Camilla  (smiling  confidently). 

"  Not  such,  when  I  was  at  the  Source, 
It  said  to  me  ; — but  take  thy  course." 

Orso  (astounded). 
"  Thither  thy  steps  were  bent  ?" 

MiCHiELLA  (spurning  verbal  controversy). 

"  She  feigns  I 
A  thousand  swords  are  in  my  veins. 
Friends  !  soldiers  !  strike  them  down,  the  pair  I* 

Camillo  (oji  guard,  clasping  his  wife). 

"  'Tis  well !  I  ery,  to  all  we  share. 
Yea,  life  or  death,  'tis  well !  'tis  well !" 

MICHIELLA  (stamjjs  her  foot). 
"  My  heart's  a  vessel  tossed  on  hell  I" 


\ 


THE  THIRD  ACT.  197 

Leonardo  Qaside). 
"  Not  in  glad  nuptials  ends  the  day." 

Okso  (^to  Camilla'). 
"What  is  thy  purpose  with  us  ? — say  P 

Camilla  (lowly). . 

^    *  Unto  my  Father  I  have  crossed 
For  tidings  of  my  Mother  lost." 

Okso. 
«  Thy  mother  dead  !" 

Camilla. 

«'  She  lives  I" 

MiCHIELLA. 

"  Thou  liest ! 
The  tablets  of  the  tomb  defiest ! 
The  Fates  denounce,  the  Furies  chase 
The  wretch  who  lies  in  Reason's  face." 

Camilla. 

"  Fly,  then  ;  for  we  are  match'd  to  try 
Which  is  the  idiot,  thou  or  I." 

MiCHIELLA. 

"Graceless  Camilla  1" 

Oeso. 

"  Senseless  girl  I 
I  cherished  thee  a  precious  pearl. 
And  almost  owned  thee  child  of  mine." 

Camilla. 

"  Thou  kept'st  me  like  a  gem,  to  shine/-. 
Careless  that  I  of  blood  am  made  ; 
No  longer  be  the  end  delayVl. 
'Tis  time  to  prove  I  have  a  heart — 
Forth  from  these  walls  of  mine  depart ! 
The  ghosts  within  them  are  di.sturb'd  : 
Go  forth,  and  let  thy  wrath  be  curb'd. 
For  I  am  strong :  Camillo's  truth 
Has  arm'd  the  visions  ot  our  youth. 
Our  union  by  the  llciul  Supreme 
Is  l)lest :  our  scveraiiie  was  tlic  dream. 
We  who  have  drunk  ol  l)loo(l  and  tears. 
Knew  nothing  ot  a  mortal's  tears. 
Life  is  as  Death  until  tlie  strite 
In  our  just  cause  makes  Death  as  Life.* 


198  VITTORIA. 

Orso. 
« 'Tis  madness  ?" 

Leonardo, 

"  Is  it  madness  P" 

^      Camilla. 

"  Men ! 

'Tis  Reason,  but  beyond  your  ken. 

There  lives  a  light  that  none  can  view 

Whose  thoughts  are  brutish  : — seen  by  few, 

The  few  have  therefore  light  divine  : 

Their  visions  are  God's  legions  1 — sign, 

I  give  you  ;  for  we  stand  alone, 

And  you  are  frozen  to  the  bone. 

Your  palsied  hands  refuse  their  swords. 

A  sharper  edge  is  in  my  woi'ds, 

A  deadlier  wound  is  in  my  cry. 

Yea,  the'  you  slay  us,  do  we  die  ? 

In  forcing  us  to  bear  the  worst, 

You  made  of  us  Immortals  first. 

Away !  and  trouble  not  my  sight." 

VJivriis  of  Cavaliers:  Rudolfo,  Romualdo,  Aenoldo,  and  others. 

"  She  moves  us  with  an  angel's  might. 
What  if  his  host  outnumber  ours  I 
'Tis  heaven  that  gives  victorious  powers." 

[_Tkey  draw  their  steel.     Orso,  simulating  gratitude  for  their  devotion 
to  him,  addresses  them  as  to  pacify  their  friendly  ardou>r.'\ 

MiCHiELLA  to  Leonardo  (supplicating). 

"  Ever  my  friend  !  shall  I  a))peal 
In  vain  to  see  thy  flashing  steel  ?" 

Leonardo  {Jinally  resolved). 

"  Traitress  !  pray,  rather,  it  may  rest, 
Or  it's  first  home  will  be  thy  breast." 

Chorus  of  Bridal  Company. 

"  The  flowers  from  bright  Aurora's  head 
We  pluck'd  to  strew  a  happy  bed, 
Shall  they  be  dipp'd  in  blood  ere  night  ? 
Woe  to  the  nuptials  !  woe  the  sight  1" 

Rudolfo,    Romualdo,    Arnoldo,   and    the   others,    advance 
towai'd  Camillo.     Michiella  calls  to  thorn  encouragingly  that 


THE  THIRD  ACT.  199 

it  were  well  for  the  deed  to  be  done  by  their  hands.  They 
bid  Camillo  to  direct  their  lifted  swords  upon  his  enemies. 
Leonardo  joins  them.  Count  Orso,  after  a  burst  of  upbraid- 
ings,  accepts  Camillo's  oifer  of  peace,  and  gives  his  bond  to 
quit  the  castle.  Michiella,  gazing  savagely  at  Camilla, 
entreats  her  for  an  utterance  of  her  triumphant  scorn.  She 
assures  Camilla  that  she  knows  her  feelings  accurately. 

"Now  you  think  that  I  am  overwhelmed;  that  I  shall 
have  a  restless  night,  and  lie,  after  all  my  crying's  over, 
with  my  hair  spread  out  on  my  pillow,  on  either  .side  my 
face,  like  green  moss  of  a  withered  waterfall :  you  think  yon 
will  bestow  a  little  serpent  of  a  gift  from  my  stolen  treasures 
to  comfort  me.  You  will  comfort  me  with  a  lock  of  Camillo's 
hair,  that  I  may  have  it  on  my  breast  to-night,  and  dream, 
and  wail,  and  writhe,  and  curse  the  air  I  breathe,  and 
clasp  the  abominable  emptiness  like  a  thousand  Camillas. 
Speak  !" 

The  dagger  is  seen  gleaming  up  Michiella's  wrist ;  she 
steps  on  in  a  bony  triangle,  faced  for  mischief :  a  savage 
Hunnish  woman,  with  the  hair  of  a  Goddess — the  figure  of 
a  cat  taking  to  its  forepaws.  Close  upon  Camilla  she  towers 
in  her  whole  height,  and  crying  thrice,  swift  as  the  assassin 
trebles  his  blow,  "  Speak,"  to  Camilla,  who  is  fronting  her 
mildly,  she  raises  her  arm,  and  the  stilet  flashes  into 
Camilla's  bosom. 

"  Die  then,  and  outraoje  me  no  more." 

Camilla  staggers  to  her  husband.  Camillo  receives  her 
falling.  Michiella,  seized  by  Leonardo,  presents  a  stiffened 
shape  of  vengeance  with  fierce  white  eyes  and  dagger  aloft. 
There  are  many  shouts,  and  there  is  silence. 

Camilla,  supported  by  Camillo. 

"  If  this  is  death,  it  is  not  hard  to  hear. 
Yonr  handkerchief  drinks  up  my  hlond  so  fast 
It  seems  to  love  it.     Threads  of  my  own  hair 
Are  woven  in  it.     'Tis  the  one  I  cast 
That  niiiliiif^lit  from  my  window,  when  you  stood 
Ah)ne,  and  he:iven  scciiied  to  love  you  so  I 
I  did  not  think  to  wet  it  witli  my  i)io()d 
When  next!  I  tossed  it  to  my  h)ve  helow." 


200  virroiiiA. 

Camillo  (cTierisJdng  her), 

"  Camilla,  pity  !  say  you  will  not  die. 
Your  voice  is  like  a  soul  lost  in  the  sky." 

Camilla. 

"  I  know  not  if  my  soul  has  flown  ;  I  know 
^ly  body  is  a  weight  I  cannot  raise  : 
My  voice  between  them  issues,  and  I  go 
Upon  a  journey  of  uncounted  days. 
Forgetfuluess  is  like  a  closing  sea  ; 
But  you  are  very  bright  above  me  still. 
My  life  I  give  as  it  was  given  to  me  : 
I  enter  on  a  darkness  wide  and  chilL" 

Camillo. 

"  O  no1)le  heart !  a  million  fires  consume 
The  hateful  hand  that  sends  you  to  your  doom." 


Camilla. 

"  There  is  an  end  to  joy  :  there  is  no  end 
To  striving  ;  therefore  ever  let  us  strive 
In  purity  that  shall  the  toil  befriend, 
And  keep  our  poor  mortality  alive. 
I  hang  upon  the  boundaries  like  light 
Along  the  hills  when  downward  goes  the  dayj 
I  feel  the  silent  creeping  up  of  night. 
For  you,  my  husband,  lies  a  flaming  way." 

Camillo. 


"  I  lose  your  eyes  :  I  lose  your  voice  :  'tis  faiob, 
Ah,  Christ  1  see  the  fallen  eyelids  of  a  saint." 

Camilla. 

"  Our  life  is  but  a  little  holding,  lent 
To  do  a  mighty  labour  :  we  are  one 
With  heaven  and  the  stars  when  it  is  spent 
To  serve  God's  aim  :  else  die  we  with  the  sun.'* 

She  sinks.     Camillo  droops  his  head  above  her. 

The  house  was  hushed  as  at  a  veritable  death-scene.  It 
was  more  like  a  cathedral  service  than  an  operatic  pageant. 
Agostino  had  done  his  best  to  put  the  heart  of  the  creed  of 
his  chief  into  these  last  verses.  Rocco's  music  floated  them 
in  solemn  measures,  and  Vittoria  had  been  careful  to  arti- 


THE  THIKD  ACT.  201 

cnlate  tlironghout  the  sacred  monotony  so  that  their  full 
meaning  should  be  taken. 

In  the  printed  book  of  the  libretto  a  chorus  of  cavaliers, 
followed  by  one  harmless  verse  of  Camilla's  adieux  to  them, 
and  to  her  husband  and  life,  concluded  the  opera. 

"  Let  her  stop  at  that — it's  enough  ! — and  she  shall  be 
untouched,"  said  General  Pierson  to  Antonio-Pericles.  "  I 
have  information,  as  you  know,  that  an  extremely  impudent 
5ong  is  coming." 

The  General  saw  Wilfrid  hanging  about  the  lobby,  in 
Bagrant  disobedience  to  orders.  Rebuking  his  nephew  with 
a  frown,  he  commanded  the  lieutenant  to  make  his  way  round 
to  the  stage  and  see  that  the  curtain  was  dropped  according 
to  the  printed  book. 

"  Off,  mon  Dieu  !  off  !"  Pericles  speeded  him  ;  adding  in 
English,  "  Shall  she  taste  prison-damp,  zat  voice  is  killed." 

The  chorus  of  cavaliers  was  a  lamentation :  the  key-note 
being  despair :  ordinary  libretto  verses. 

Camilla's  eyes  unclose.  She  struggles  to  be  lifted,  and, 
raised  on  Camillo's  arm,  she  sings  as  with  the  last  pulsation 
of  her  voice,  softly  resonant  in  its  rich  contralto.  She  par- 
dons Michiella.  She  tells  Count  Orso  that  when  he  has 
extinguished  his  appetite  for  dominion,  he  will  enjoy  an 
unknown  pleasure  in  the  friendship  of  his  neighbours. 
Repeating  that  her  mother  lives,  and  will  some  day  kneel 
by  her  daughter's  grave — not  mournfully,  but  in  beatitude — 
she  utters  her  adieu  to  all. 

At  the  moment  of  her  doing  so,  Montini  whispered  in 
Vittoria's  ear.  She  looked  up  and  beheld  the  downward 
curl  of  the  curtain.  There  was  confusion  at  the  wings : 
Croats  were  visible  to  the  audience.  Carlo  Ammiani  and 
Luciano  Romara  jumped  on  the  stage;  a  dozen  of  the  noble 
youths  of  Milan  streamed  across  the  boards  to  either  wing, 
and  caught  the  curtain  descending.  The  whole  house  had 
risen  insurgent  with  cries  of  "  Vittoria."  The  curtain-ropes 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  Croats,  but  Carlo,  Luciano,  and 
their  fellows,  held  the  curtain  aloft  at  arm's  length  at  each 
Bide  of  her.  She  was  seen,  and  she  sang,  and  the  house 
listened. 

The  Italians  present,  one  and  all,  rose  up  reverently  and 
murmured  the  refrain.  Many  of  the  aristocracy  would, 
doubtless,  have  preferred  that  this  public  declaiation  of  the 


202  VITTOEIA. 

plain  enisfma  should  not  have  rung  forth  to  carry  them  on 
the  popular  current ;  and  some  might  have  sympathized 
with  the  insane  grin  which  distorted  the  features  of  Antonio- 
Pericles,  when  he  beheld  illusion  wantonly  destroyed,  and 
the  opera  reduced  to  be  a  mere  vehicle  for  a  fulmination  of 
politics.  But  the  general  enthusiasm  was  too  tremendous 
to  permit  of  individual  protestations.  To  sit,  when  the  nation 
was  standing,  was  to  be  a  German.  Nor,  indeed,  was  there 
an  Italian  in  the  house  who  would  willingly  have  consented 
to  see  Vittoria  silenced,  now  that  she  had  chosen  to  defy  the 
Tedeschi  from  the  boards  of  La  Scala.  The  fascination  of 
her  voice  extended  even  over  the  German  division  of  the 
audience.  They,  with  the  Italians,  said :  "  Hear  her !  hear 
her !"  The  curtain  was  agitated  at  the  wings,  but  in  the 
centre  it  was  kept  above  Vittoria's  head  by  the  uplifted  armg 
of  the  twelve  young  men : — 

"I  cannot  cotint  the  years, 

That  you  will  drink,  like  me, 
The  cnp  of  blood  and  tears, 
Ere  she  to  yon  appears  : —  ^ 

Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free  !" 

So  the  great  name  was  out,  and  its  enemies  had  heard  it. 

"  Yon  dedicate  yonr  lives 
To  her,  and  yon  will  be 
The  food  on  which  she  thrives, 
Till  her  great  day  arrives  :— 

Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free  /" 

"  She  asks  yon  hut  for  faith  I 
Your  faith  in  her  takes  she 
As  draughts  of  heaven's  breath. 
Amid  defeat  and  death  : — 
Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free  !^^ 

The  prima  donna  was  not  acting  exhaustion  when  sinking 
lower  in  Montini's  arms.  Her  bosom  rose  and  sank  quickly, 
and  she  gave  the  terminating  verse : — 

"  I  enter  the  black  boat 

Upon  the  wide  grey  sea, 
Where  all  her  set  suns  float ; 
Tbeiice  hear  my  voice  remote  :— 
Italia,  Italia  shall  be  free  /" 

The  curtain  di^opped. 


WILFRID  COMES  FORWAED.  203 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

WILFRID  COMES  FORWARD. 

An  order  for  the  immediate  arrest  of  Vittoria  was  brought 
round  to  the  stage  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain  by  Captain 
Weisspriess,  and  delivered  by  him  on  the  stage  to  the  officer 
commanding,  a  pothered  lieutenant  of  Croats,  whose  first 
proceeding  was  dictated  by  the  military  instinct  to  get  his 
men  in  line,  and  who  was  utterly  devoid  of  any  subsequent 
idea.  The  thunder  of  the  house  on  the  other  side  of  the 
curtain  was  enough  to  disconcert  a  youngster  such  as  he 
was ;  nor  have  the  subalterns  of  Croat  regiments  a  very 
signal  reputation  for  efficiency  in  the  Austrian  service. 
Vittoria  stood  among  her  supporters  apart ;  pale,  and  "  only 
very  thirsty,"  as  she  told  the  enthusiastic  youths  who  pressed 
near  her,  and  implored  her  to  have  no  fear.  Carlo  was  on 
her  right  hand ;  Luciano  on  her  left.  They  kept  her  from 
going  off  to  her  room.  Montini  was  despatched  to  fetch  her 
maid  Giacinta  with  cloak  and  hood  for  her  mistress.  The 
young  lieutenant  of  Croats  drew  his  sword,  but  hesitated. 
Weisspriess,  Wilfrid,  and  Major  de  Pyrmont  were  at  one 
wing,  between  the  Italian  gentlemen  and  the  soldiery.  The 
operatic  company  had  fallen  into  the  background,  or  stood 
crowding  the  side  places  of  exit.  Vittoria's  name  was  being 
shouted  with  that  angry,  sea-like,  horrid  monotony  of  itera- 
tion which  is  more  suggestive  of  menacing  impatience  and 
the  positive  will  of  the  people,  then  varied,  sharp,  imperative 
calls.  The  people  had  got  the  lion  in  their  throats.  One 
shriek  from  her  would  bring  them,  like  a  torrent,  on  the 
boards,  as  the  officers  well  knew ;  and  every  second's  delay 
in  executing  the  orders  of  the  General  added  to  the  difficulty 
of  their  position.  The  lieutenant  of  Croats  strode  up  to 
Weisspriess  and  Wilfrid,  who  were  discussing  apian  of  action 
vehemently  ;  while,  amid  hubbub  and  argument,  De  Pyrmont 
studied  Vittoria's  features  through  his  opera-glass,  with  an 
admirable  simple  languor. 

Wilfrid  turned  back  to  him,  and  De  Pyrmont,  without 
alterinortho  level  of  his  glass,  said,  "  She's  as  cool  as  a  lemon. 
ice.     That  girl  will  be  a  mother  of  heroes.    To  have  volcanio 


204  VITTORIA. 

fire  and  the  mastery  of  her  nerves  at  the  same  time,  is  some- 
thing prodigious.  She  is  magnificent.  Take  a  peep  at  hei". 
I  suspect  that  the  rascal  at  her  right  is  seizing  his  occasion 
to  plant  a  trifle  or  so  in  her  memory — the  animal !  It's  just 
the  moment,  and  he  knows  it." 

De  Pyrmont  looked  at  Wilfrid's  face. 

"  Have  I  hit  you  anywhere  accidentally  ?  "  he  asked,  for 
the  face  had  grown  dead-white. 

"  Be  my  friend,  for  heaven's  sake !  "  was  the  choking 
answer.  "  Save  her !  Get  her  away !  She  is  an  old 
acquaintance  of  mine — of  mine,  in  England.  Do ;  or  I  shall 
have  to  break  my  sword." 

"  You  know  her  ?  and  you  don't  go  over  to  her  ?  "  said  Do 
Pyrmont. 

"  I — yes,  she  knows  me." 

"  Then,  why  not  present  yourself  ?  " 

"  Get  her  away.  Talk  Weisspriess  down.  He  is  for  seiz- 
ing her  at  all  hazards.  It's  madness  to  provoke  a  conflict. 
Just  listen  to  the  house  !  I  may  be  broken,  but  save  her  I 
will.  De  Pyrmont,  on  my  honour,  I  will  stand  by  you  for 
ever  if  you  will  help  me  to  get  her  a^vay." 

"  To  suggest  my  need  in  the  hour  of  your  own  is  not  a  bad 
notion,"   said    the    cool    Frenchman.      "  What    plan    havo 

you?"_ 

Wilfrid  struck  his  forehead  miserably. 

"  Stop  Lieutenant  Zettlisch.  Don't  let  him  go  up  to  her. 
Don't " 

De  Pyrmont  beheld  in  astonishment  that  a  speechlessness 
such  as  affects  condemned  wretches  in  the  supreme  last 
minutes  of  existence  had  come  upon  the  Englishman. 

*'  I'm  afraid  yours  is  a  bad  case,"  he  said  ;  "  and  the  worst 
of  it  is,  it's  just  the  case  women  have  no  compassion  for. 
Here  comes  a  parlementaire  from  the  opposite  camp.  Let's 
hear  him." 

It  w^as  Luciano  Romara.  He  stood  before  them  to  request 
that  the  curtain  should  be  raised.  The  officers  debated 
together,  and  deemed  it  prudent  to  yield  consent. 

Luciano  stipulated  further  that  the  soldiers  were  to  be 
withdrawn. 

"  On  one  v^ing,  or  on  both  wings  ?  "  said  Captain  Weiss- 
priess, twinkling  eyes  oblique. 

"  Out  of  the  house,"  said  Luciano. 


WILFRID  COMBS  FORWARD.  205 

The  officers  laughed. 

"  Yoa  must  confess,"  said  De  Pyrmont.,  affably,  "that 
thousrh  the  drum  does  issue  command  to  the  horse,  it 
scarcely  thinks  of  doing  so  after  a  rent  in  the  skin  has  shown 
its  emptiness.  Can  you  suppose  that  we  are  likely  to  run 
when  we  see  you  empty-handed  ?  These  things  are  matters 
of  calculation." 

"  It  is  for  you  to  calculate  correctly,"  said  Luciano. 

As  he  spoke,  a  first  surge  of  the  exasperated  house  broke 
upon  the  stage  and  smote  the  curtain,  which  burst  into 
■white  zig-zags,  as  it  were  a  breast  stricken  with  panic. 

Giacinta  came  running  in  to  her  mistress,  and  cloaked  and 
hooded  her  hurriedly. 

Enamoured,  impassioned,  Ammiani  murmured  in  Vittoria'a 
ear  :  "  My  own  soul !  " 

She  replied :  "  My  lover  !  " 

So  their  first  love-speech  was  interchanged  with  Italian 
simplicity,  and  made  a  divine  circle  about  them  in  tho 
storm. 

Luciano  returned  to  his  party  to  inform  them  that  they 
held  the  key  of  the  emergency. 

"  Stick  fast,"  he  said.  "  ISTone  of  you  move.  Whoever 
takes  the  first  step  takes  the  false  step ;  I  see  that." 

"  We  have  no  arms,  Luciano." 

"  We  have  the  people  behind  us." 

There  was  a  fiercer  tempest  in  the  body  of  the  house,  and, 
on  a  sudden,  silence.  Men  who  had  invaded  the  stage  joined 
the  Italian  guard  surrounding  Vittoria,  telling  that  the 
lights  had  been  extinguished ;  and  then  came  the  muffled 
uproar  of  universal  confusion.  Some  were  for  handing-  her 
down  into  the  orchestra,  and  getting  her  out  through  the 
general  vomitorium,  but  Carlo  and  Luciano  held  her  firmly 
by  them.  The  theatre  was  a  raging  darkness ;  and  there 
was  barely  a  light  on  the  stage.  "  Santa  Maria !  "  cried 
Giacinta,  "  how  dreadful  that  steel  does  look  in  the  dark  !  I 
wish  our  sweet  boys  would  cry  louder."  Her  mistress, 
almost  laughing,  bade  her  keep  close,  and  be  still.  "  Oh ! 
this  must  be  like  being  at  sea,"  the  poor  creature  whined, 
stopping  her  ears  and  shutting  her  eyes.  Vittoria  was  in  a 
tliick  gathci'ing  of  her  defenders ;  she  could  just  hear  tliat  a 
parley  was  going  on  between  Luciano  and  the  Austrians. 
Luciano  made  his  way  back  to   her.      "  Quick,"    he   said ; 


2  Of)  VITTOKIA. 


"  nothing' COWS  a  mob  like  darkness.  One  of  ttese  officers 
tells  me  he  knows  yon,  and  gives  his  word  of  honour — he's 
an  Englishman — to  conduct  you  out :  come." 

Vittoria  placed  her  hands  in  Carlo's  one  instant.  Luciano 
cleared  a  space  for  them.     She  heard  a  low  English  voice. 

"  Tou  do  not  recognize  me  ?  There  is  no  time  to  lose. 
You  had  another  name  once,  and  I  have  had  the  honour  to 
call  you  by  it." 

"Are  you  an  Austrian?"  she  exclaimed,  and  Carlo  felt 
that  she  was  shrinking  back. 

"  I  am  the  Wilfrid  Pole  whom  you  knew.  You  are  en- 
trusted to  my  charge ;  I  have  sworn  to  conduct  you  to  the 
doors  in  safety,  whatever  it  may  cost  me." 

Yittoria  looked  at  him  mournfully.  Her  eyes  filled  with 
tears.     "  The  night  is  spoiled  for  me  !"  she  murmured. 

"Emilia!" 

•'  That  is  not  my  name." 

"  I  know  you  by  no  other.  Have  mercy  on  me.  I  would 
do  anything  in  the  world  to  serve  you." 

Major  de  Pyi"mont  came  up  to  him  and  touched  his  arm. 
He  said  briefly :  "  We  shall  have  a  collision,  to  a  certainty, 
unless  the  people  hear  from  one  of  her  set  that  she  is  out  of 
the  house." 

Wilfrid  requested  her  to  confide  her  hand  to  him. 

"  My  hand  is  engaged,"  she  said. 

Bowing  ceremoniously,  Wilfrid  passed  on,  and  Vittoria, 
with  Carlo  and  Luciano  and  her  maid  Giacinta,  followed 
between  files  of  bayonets  through  the  dusky  passages,  and 
downstairs  into  the  night  air. 

Vittoria  spoke  in  Carlo's  ear :  "  I  have  been  unkind  to  him. 
I  had  a  great  affection  for  him  in  England." 

"  Thank  him;  thank  him,"  said  Carlo. 

She  quitted  her  lover's  side  and  went  up  to  Wilfrid  with 
a  shyly  extended  hand.  A  carriage  was  drawn  up  by  the 
kerbstone  ;  the  doors  of  it  were  open.  She  had  barely  made 
a  word  intelligible,  when  Major  de  Pyrmont  pointed  to  some 
officers  approaching.  "  Get  her  out  of  the  way  while  there's 
time,"  he  said  in  French  to  Luciano.  "  This  is  her  carriage. 
Swiftly,  gentlemen,  or  she's  lost." 

Giacinta  read  his  meaning  by  signs,  and  caught  her  mis- 
tress by  the  sleeve,  using  force.  She  and  Major  de  Pyrmont 
placed  Vittoria,  bewildered,  in  the  carriage  ;    De  Pyrmont 


WILFRID  COMES  FORWARD.  207 

shnt  the  door,  and  signalled  to  the  coachman.  Vittoria 
thrust  her  head  out  for  a  last  look  at  her  lover,  and  beheld 
him  with  the  arms  of  dark-clothed  men  upon  him.  La  dcala 
was  pouring  forth  its  occupants  in  struggling  roaring  shoals 
from  every  door.  Her  outcry  returned  to  her  deadened  in 
the  rapid  rolling  of  the  carriage  across  the  lighted  Piazza. 
Giacinta  had  to  hold  her  down  with  all  her  might.  Great 
clamour  was  for  one  moment  heard  by  them,  and  then  a 
rushing  voicelessness.  Giacinta  screamed  to  the  coachman 
till  she  was  exhausted.  Vittoria  sank  shuddering  on  the  lap 
of  her  maid,  hiding  her  face  that  she  might  plunge  out  of 
recollection.  The  lightnings  shot  across  her  brain,  but  wrote 
no  legible  thing ;  the  scenes  of  the  opera  lost  their  outlines 
as  in  a  white  heat  of  fire.  She  tried  to  weep,  and  vainly 
asked  her  heart  for  tears,  that  this  dry  dreadful  blind  misery 
of  mere  sensation  might  be  washed  out  of  her,  and  leave  her 
mind  clear  to  grapple  with  evil ;  and  then,  as  the  lurid 
breaks  come  in  a  storm-driven  night  sky,  she  had  the  picture 
of  her  lover  in  the  hands  of  enemies,  and  of  Wilfrid  in  the 
white  uniform ;  the  toi-ment  of  her  living  passion,  the  mockery 
of  her  passion  by-gone.  Recollection,  when  it  came  back, 
overwhelmed  her ;  she  swayed  ftxjm  recollection  to  oblivion, 
and  was  like  a  caged  wild  thing.  Giacinta  had  to  be  as  a 
m^other  with  her.  The  poor  trembling  girl,  who  had  begun 
to  perceive  that  the  carriage  was  bearing  them  to  some  un- 
known destination,  tore  open  the  bands  of  her  corset  and 
drew  her  mistress's  head  against  the  full  warmth  of  her 
bosom,  rocked  her,  and  moaned  over  her,  mixing  comfort 
and  lamentation  in  one  offering,  and  so  contrived  to  draw 
the  tears  out  from  her, — a  storm  of  tears ;  not  fitfully  hys- 
terical, but  tears  that  poured  a  black  veil  over  the  eyeballs, 
and  fell  steadily  streaming.  Once  subdued  by  the  weakness, 
Vittoria's  nature  melted ;  she  shook  piteously  with  weeping ; 
she  remembered  Laura's  words,  and  thought  of  what  she  had 
done,  in  terror  and  remorse,  and  tried  to  ask  if  the  people 
would  be  fighting  now,  but  could  not.  Laura  seemed  to 
stand  before  her  like  a  Fury  stretching  her  finger  at  the 
dear  brave  men  whom  she  had  hurled  upon  the  bayonets 
and  the  guns.  It  was  an  unendura)>le  anguish.  Giacinta, 
was  conij)elled  to  lot  her  cry,  and  had  to  reflect  upon  their 
present  situation  unaided.  They  had  passed  tlic  city-gat(;s. 
Voices  on  the  coachman's  box  had  given  German  pass-words. 


208  VITTORIA. 

She  woTild  have  screamed  then  had  not  the  carriage  seemed 
to  her  a  sanctuary  from  such  creatures  as  foreign  soldiers, 
whitecoats ;  so  she  cowered  on.  They  were  in  the  starry 
open  country,  on  the  high-road  between  the  vine-hung  mul- 
berry trees.  She  held  the  precious  head  of  her  mistress, 
praying  the  saints  that  strength  would  soon  come  to  her  to 
talk  of  their  plight,  or  chatter  a  little  comfortingly  at  least ; 
and  but  for  the  singular  sweetness  which  it  shot  thrilling 
to  her  woman's  heart,  she  would  have  been  fretted  when 
Vittoria,  after  one  long-drawn  wavering  sob,  turned  her 
lips  to  the  bared  warm  breast,  and  put  a  little  kiss  upon  it, 
and  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


FIRST  HOURS  OP  THE  FLIGHT. 


Vittoria  slept  on  like  an  outworn  child,  while  Giacinta 
nodded  over  her,  and  started,  and  wondered  what  embowelled 
mountain  they  might  be  passing  through,  so  cold  was  the 
air  and  thick  the  darkness  ;  and  wondered  more  at  the  old 
face  of  dawn,  which  appeared  to  know  nothing  of  her  agita- 
tion. But  morning  was  better  than  night,  and  she  ceased 
counting  over  her  sins  forward  and  backward  ;  adding  com- 
ments on  them,  excusing  some  and  admitting  the  turpitude 
of  others,  with  "  Oh  !  I  was  naughty,  padre  mio !  I  was 
naughty :" — she  huddled  them  all  into  one  of  memory's  spare 
sacks,  and  tied  the  neck  of  it,  that  they  should  keep  safe 
for  her  father-confessor.  At  such  times,  after  a  tumult  of 
the  blood,  women  have  tender  delight  in  one  another's  beauty. 
Giacinta  doated  on  the  marble  cheek,  upturned  on  her  lap, 
with  the  black  unbound  locks  slipping  across  it ;  the  braid  of 
the  coronal  of  hair  loosening ;  the  chance  flitting  movement 
of  the  pearly  little  dimple  that  lay  at  the  edge  of  the  bow  of 
the  joined  lips,  like  the  cradling  hollow  of  a  dream.  At 
whiles  it  would  twitch;  yet  the  dear  eyelids  continued  sealed. 
Looking  at  shut  eyelids  when  you  love  the  eyes  beneath,  is 
more  or  less  a  teazing  mystery  that  draws  down  your  mouth 
to  kiss  them.     Their  lashes  seem  to  answer  you  in  same  way 


FIRST  HOURS  OP  THE  PLIGHT.  209 

with  infantine  provocation ;  and  fine  eyelashes  npon  a  face 
bent  sideways,  suggest  a  kind  of  internal  smiling.  Giacinta 
looked  till  she  could  bear  it  no  longer;  she  kissed  the  cheek, 
and  crooned  over  it,  gladdened  by  a  sense  of  jealous  possession 
"when  she  thought  of  the  adored  thing  her  mistress  had  been 
overnight.  One  of  her  hugs  awoke  Vittoria,  who  said,  "Shut 
my  window,  mother,"  and  slept  again  fast.  Giacinta  saw 
that  they  were  nearer  to  the  mountains.  Mountain-shadows 
were  thrown  out,  and  long  lank  shadows  of  cypresses  that 
climbed  up  reddish-yellow  undulations,  told  of  the  sun  coming. 
The  sun  threw  a  blaze  of  light  into  the  carriage.  He  shone 
like  a  good  friend,  and  helped  Giacinta  think,  as  she  had 
already  been  disposed  to  imagine,  that  the  machinery  by 
which  they  had  been  caught  out  of  Milan  was  amicable  magic 
after  all,  and  not  to  be  screamed  at.  The  sound  medicine  of 
Bleep  and  sunlight  was  restoring  livelier  colour  to  her  mis- 
tress. Giacinta  hushed  her  now,  but  Vittoria's  eyes  opened, 
and  settled  on  her,  full  of  repose. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Signorina,  my  own,  I  was  thinking  whether  those  people 
I  see  on  the  hill-sides  are  as  fond  of  coffee  as  I  am." 

Vittoria  sat  up  and  tumbled  questions  out  headlong,  press- 
ing her  eyes  and  gathering  her  senses  ;  she  shook  with  a  few 
convulsions,  but  shed  no  tears.  It  was  rather  the  discomfort 
of  their  position  than  any  vestige  of  alarm  which  prompted 
Giacinta  to  project  her  head  and  interrogate  the  coachman 
and  chasseur.  She  drew  back,  saying,  "  Holy  Virgin  !  they 
are  Germans.  We  are  to  stop  in  half-an-hour."  With  that 
she  put  her  hands  to  use  in  arranging'  and  smoothing  Vit- 
toria's hair  and  dress — the  dress  of  Camilla — of  which  tri- 
umphant heroine  Vittoria  felt  herself  an  odd  little  ghost 
now.  She  changed  her  seat  that  she  might  look  bauk  on 
Milan.  A  letter  was  spied  fastened  with  a  pin  to  one  of  the 
cushions.     She  opened  it,  and  read  in  pencil  writing  : — 

"  Go  quietly.  You  have  done  all  that  you  could  do  for 
good  or  for  ill.  The  carriage  will  take  you  to  a  safe  place, 
where  you  will  soon  aee  your  finends  and  hear  the  news. 
Wait  till  you  reach  Moran.  You  will  see  a  friend  from 
England.  Avoid  the  lion's  jaw  a  second  time.  Here  you 
compromise  everybody.  Sii])iiiit,  or  your  friends  will  take 
you  for  a  mad  girl.  Bo  satisfied.  It  is  an  Austrian  who 
rescues   you.     Think    yourself    no    longer  "  appoin"'  ed  to    put 

P 


210  VITTORIA. 

match  to  powder.  Drown  yourself  if  a  second  frenzy  coraes. 
I  feel  I  could  still  love  your  body  if  the  obstinate  soul  were 
out  of  it.  You  know  who  it  is  that  writes.  I  might  sign 
'  Michiella '  to  this :  I  have  a  sympathy  with  her  anger  at 
the  provoking  Camilla.     Addio  !     From  La  Scala." 

The  lines  read  as  if  Laura  were  uttering  them.  Wrapping 
her  cloak  across  the  silken  opera  garb,  Vittoria  leaned 
back  passively  until  the  carriage  stopped  at  a  village  inn, 
where  Giacinta  made  speedy  arrangements  to  satisfy  as  far 
as  possible  her  mistress's  queer  predilection  for  bathing  her 
whole  person  daily  in  cold  water.  The  household  service  of 
the  inn  recovered  from  the  effort  to  assist  her  sufficiently  to 
produce  hot  coffee  and  sweet  bread,  and  new  green- streaked 
stracchino,  the  cheese  of  the  district,  which  was  the  morning 
meal  of  the  fugitives.  Giacinta,  who  had  never  been  so 
thirsty  in  her  life,  became  intemperately  refreshed,  and  was 
seized  by  the  fatal  desire  to  do  something :  to  do  what  she 
could  not  tell ;  but  chancing  to  see  that  her  mistress  had 
silken  slippers  on  her  feet,  she  protested  loudly  that  stouter 
foot-gear  should  be  obtained  for  her,  and  ran  out  to  circulate 
inquiries  concerning  a  shoemaker  who  might  have  a  pair  of 
country  overshoes  for  sale.  She  returned  to  say  that  the 
coachman  and  his  comrade,  the  German  chasseur,  were 
drinking  and  watering  their  horses,  and  were  not  going  to 
start  until  after  a  rest  of  two  hours,  and  that  she  proposed 
to  walk  to  a  small  Bergamasc  town  within  a  couple  of  miles 
of  the  village,  where  the  shoes  could  be  obtained,  and  per. 
haps  a  stuff"  to  replace  the  silken  dress.  Receiving  consent, 
Giacinta  whispered,  "  A  man  outside  wishes  to  speak  to  you, 
signorina.  Don't  be  frightened.  He  pounced  on  me  at  the 
end  of  the  village,  and  had  as  little  breath  to  speak  as  a  boy 
in  love.  He  was  behind  us  all  last  night  on  the  carriage. 
He  mentioned  you  by  name.  He  is  quite  commonly  dressed, 
but  he's  a  gallant  gentleman,  and  exactly  like  our  signor 
Carlo.  My  dearest  lady,  he'll  be  company  for  you  while  I 
am  absent.     May  I  beckon  him  to  come  into  the  room  ?" 

Vittoria  supposed  at  once  that  this  was  a  smoothing  of 
the  way  for  the  entrance  of  her  lover  and  her  joy.  She 
stood  up,  letting  all  her  strength  go  that  he  might  the  more 
justly  take  her  and  cherish  her.  But  it  was  not  Carlo  who 
entered.  So  dead  fell  her  broken  hope  that  her  face  was 
repellent  with  the'  effort  she  made  to  support  herself.     He 


FIRST  HOURS  OF  THE  FLIGHT.  2  1 1 

said,  "  I  address  the  sig-norina  Vittoria.  I  am  a  relative  of 
Countess  Animiani.  Mj  name  is  Angclo  Gnidascarpi.  Last 
night  I  was  evading  the  sbirri  in  this  disguise  by  the  private 
door  of  La  Scala,  from  which  I  expected  Carlo  to  come  forth. 
I  saw  him  seized  in  mistake  for  me.  I  jumped  up  on  the 
empty  box-seat  behind  your  carriage.  Before  we  entered 
the  village  I  let  myself  down.  If  I  am  seen  and  recognized, 
I  am  lost,  and  great  evil  will  befall  Countess  Ammiani  and 
her  son ;  but  if  they  are  unable  to  confi-ont  Carlo  and  me, 
my  escape  ensures  his  safety." 

"  ^Tiat  can  I  do  ?"  said  Vittoria. 

He  replied,  "  Shall  I  answer  you  by  telling  you  what  I 
have  done  ?" 

"  You  need  not,  signore." 

*'  Enough  that  I  want  to  keep  a  sword  fresh  for  my 
country.  I  am  at  your  mercy,  signorina ;  and  I  am  without 
anxiety.  I  heard  the  chasseur  saying  at  the  door  of  La 
Scala  that  he  had  the  night-pass  for  the  city  gates  and 
orders  for  the  Tyrol.  Once  in  Tyrol  I  leap  into  Switzerland. 
I  should  have  remained  in  Milan,  but  nothing  will  be  done 
there  yet,  and  quiet  cities  are  not  homes  for  me." 

Vittoi'ia  began  to  admit  the  existence  of  his  likeness  to 
her  lover,  though  it  seemed  to  her  a  guilty  weakness  that 
she  should  see  it. 

"  Will  nothing  be  done  in  Milan  ?"  was  her  first  eager 
question. 

"  Nothing,  signorina,  or  I  should  be  there,  and  safe." 

"What,  signore,  do  you  requii-e  me  to  help  you  in  ?" 

*'  Say  that  I  am  your  servant." 

"  And  take  you  with  me  ?" 

*'  Such  is  my  petition." 

**  Is  the  case  very  urgent  ?" 

"  Hardly  more,  as  regards  myself,  than  a  sword  lost  to 
Italy  if  I  am  discovered.  But,  signorina,  from  what  Countess 
Ammiani  has  told  me,  I  believe  that  y^u  will  some  day  be 
my  relative  likewise.  Therefore  I  appeal  not  only  to  a 
charitable  lady,  but  to  one  of  my  own  family." 

Vittoria  reddened.     "  All  that  I  can  do  I  will  do." 

Angelo  had  to  assure  her  that  Carlo's  release  was  certain 
the  moment  his  identify  was  established.  She  bi'oathed 
gladly,  saying,  "I  wonder  at  it  all  very  much.  I  do  not 
kuow  where    thuy  arc   carrying   me,  but   J   tliiuk  I  am  in 

p2 


212  VITTOEIA. 

friendly  hands.  I  owe  you  a  duty.  You  will  permit  me  to 
call  you  Beppo  till  our  journey  ends." 

They  were  attracted  to  the  windows  by  a  noise  of  a  horse- 
man drawing  rein  under  it,  whose  imperious  shout  for  the 
innkeeper  betrayed  the  soldier's  habit  of  exacting  prompt 
obedience  from  civilians,  though  there  was  no  military 
character  in  his  attire.  The  innkeeper  and  his  wife  came 
out  to  the  summons,  and  then  both  made  way  for  the  chas- 
seur in  attendance  on  Vittoria.  With  this  man  the  cavalier 
conversed. 

"Have  you  had  food?"  said  Vittoria.  "I  have  some 
money  that  will  serve  for  both  of  us  three  days.  Go,  and 
eat  and  drink.     Pay  for  us  both." 

She  gave  him  her  purse.  He  received  it  with  a  grave 
servitorial  bow,  and  retired. 

Soon  after  the  chasseur  brought  up  a  message.  Herr 
Johannes  requested  that  he  might  have  the  honour  of  pre- 
senting his  homage  to  her  :  it  was  imperative  that  he  should 
see  her.  She  nodded.  Her  first  glance  at  Herr  Johannes 
assured  her  of  his  being  one  of  the  officers  whom  she  had 
seen  on  the  stage  last  night,  and  she  prepared  to  act  her 
part.  Herr  Johannes  desired  her  to  recall  to  mind  his 
introduction  to  her  by  the  Signor  Antonio-Pericles  at  the 
house  of  the  maestro  Rocco  Ricci.  "  It  is  true ;  pardon  me," 
said  Vittoria. 

He  informed  her  that  she  had  surpassed  herself  at  the 
opera ;  so  much  so  that  he  and  many  other  Germans  had 
been  completely  conquered  by  her.  Hearing,  he  said,  that 
she  was  to  be  pursued,  he  took  horse  and  galloped  all  night 
on  the  road  toward  Schloss  Sonnenberg,  whither,  as  it  had 
been  whispered  to  him,  she  was  flyinsr,  in  order  to  counsel 
lier  to  lie  perdu  for  a  short  space,  and  subsequently  to  con- 
duct her  to  the  schloss  of  the  amiable  duchess.  Vittoria 
thanked  him,  but  stated  humbly  that  she  preferred  to  travel 
alone.  He  declared  that  it  was  impossible:  that  she  was 
precious  to  the  world  of  Art,  and  must  on  no  account  bo 
allowed  to  run  into  peril.  Vittoria  tried  to  assert  her  will ; 
she  found  it  unstrung.  She  thought  besides  that  this  dis- 
guised officer,  with  the  ill-looking  eyos  running  into  one, 
might  easily,  since  he  had  heard  her,  be  a  devotee  of  hei 
voice  ;  and  it  flattered  her  yet  more  to  imagine  him  as  a 
capture  from  the  enemy— a  vanquished  subservient  Austrian. 


FIRST  HOURS  OF  THE  FLIGHT.  2 1 3 

She  Vad  seen  him  come  on  horseback ;  he  had  evidently 
followed  her ;  and  he  knew  Avhat  she  now  understood  must 
be  her  destination.  Moreover,  Laura  had  underlined  "  it  is 
an  Austrian  who  rescues  yoic."  This  man  perchance  was  the 
Austrian.  His  precise  manner  of  speech  demanded  an 
extreme  repugnance,  if  it  was  to  be  resisted ;  Vittoria'a 
reliance  upon  her  own  natural  fortitude  was  much  too  secure 
for  her  to  encourage  the  physical  revulsions  which  certain 
hard  faces  of  men  create  in  the  hearts  of  young  women. 

"  Was  all  quiet  in  Milan  ?"  she  asked. 

*'  Quiet  as  a  pillow,"  he  said. 

"  And  will  continue  to  be  ?" 

*'  Not  a  doubt  of  it." 

"  Why  is  there  not  a  doubt  of  it,  signore  ?" 

"  You  beat  us  Germans  on  one  field.  On  the  other  you 
have  no  chance.  But  you  must  lose  no  time.  The  Croats 
are  on  your  track.     I  have  ordered  out  the  carriage." 

The  mention  of  the  Croats  struck  her  fugitive  senses  Avith 
a  panic. 

"  I  must  wait  for  my  maid,"  she  said,  attempting  to 
deliberate. 

"  Ha  !  you  have  a  maid  :  of  course  you  have  !  Where  is 
youi*  maid  ?" 

"  She  ought  to  have  returned  by  this  time.  If  not,  she 
is  on  the  road." 

"  On  the  road  ?  Good ;  we  will  pick  up  the  maid  on  the 
road.  We  have  not  a  minute  to  spare.  Lady,  I  am  your 
obsequious  servant.  Hasten  out,  I  beg  of  you.  I  was  taught 
at  my  school  that  minutes  are  not  to  be  wasted.  Those 
Croats  have  been  drinking  and  what  not  on  the  way,  or 
they  would  have  been  here  before  this.  You  can't  rely  on 
Italian  innkeepers  to  conceal  you." 

"  Signore,  are  you  a  man  of  honour  ?" 

"Illustrious  lady,  I  am." 

She  listened  simply  to  the  response  without  giving  heed 
to  the  prodigality  of  gesture.  The  necessity  for  fiight  now 
that  Milan  was  announced  as  lying  quiet,  had  become  her 
sole  thought.     Angelo  was  standing  by  the  carriage. 

"  What  man  is  this  V"  said  Herr  Johannes  frowning. 

"  He  is  my  servant,"  said  Vittoria. 

"My  dear  good  lady,  you  told  me  your  servant  was  a  maid. 
This  will  never  do.     We  can't  liavj  him." 


214  VITTOKIA. 

*'  Excuse  me,  signore,  I  never  travel  without  him." 

"  Travel !  This  is  not  a  case  of  travelling,  but  running ; 
and  when  you  run,  if  you  are  in  earnest  about  it,  you  must 
fling  away  your  baggage  and  arms." 

Herr  Johannes  tossed  out  his  moustache  to  right  and  left, 
and  stamped  his  foot.  He  insisted  that  the  man  should  be 
left  behind. 

"  Off,  sir !  back  to  Milan,  or  elsewhere,"  he  cried. 

"  Beppo,  mount  on  the  box,"  said  Vittoria. 

Her  command  was  instantly  obeyed.  Herr  Johannes 
looked  her  in  the  face.  "  You  are  very  decided,  my  dear 
lady."  He  seemed  to  have  lost  his  own  decision,  but  hand- 
ing Yittoria  in,  he  drew  a  long  cigar  from  his  breast-pocket, 
lit  it,  and  mounted  beside  tlie  coachman.  The  chasseur  had 
disappeared. 

Vittoria  entreated  that  a  general  look-out  should  be  kept 
for  Giacinta.  The  road  was  straight  up  an  ascent,  and  she 
had  no  fear  that  her  maid  would  not  be  seen.  Presently 
there  was  a  view  of  the  violet  domes  of  a  city.  "  Is  it 
Bergamo  ? — ^is  it  Brescia  ?"  she  longed  to  ask,  thinking  of 
her  Bergamasc  and  Brescian  friends,  and  of  those  two  places 
famous  for  the  bravery  of  their  sons :  one  being  especially 
dear  to  her,  as  the  birthplace  of  a  genius  of  melody,  whose 
blood  was  in  her  veins.  "  Did  he  look  on  these  mulberry 
trees  ? — did  he  look  on  these  green-grassed  valleys  'r' — did 
he  hear  these  falling  waters  ?"  she  asked  herself,  and  closed 
her  spirit  with  reverential  thoughts  of  him  and  with  his 
music.  She  saw  sadly  that  they  were  turning  from  the 
city.  A  little  ball  of  paper  was  shot  into  her  lap.  She 
opened  it  and  read :  "  An  officer  of  the  cavalry. — Beppo." 
She  put  her  hand  out  of  the  window  to  signify  that  she  was 
awake  to  the  situation.  Her  anxiety,  however,  began  to 
fret.  No  sight  of  Giacinta  was  to  be  had  in  any  direction. 
Her  mistress  commenced  chiding  the  absent  garrulous 
creature,  and  did  so  until  she  pitied  her,  when  she  accused 
herself  of  cowardice,  for  she  was  incapable  of  calling  out  to 
the  coachman  to  stop.  The  rapid  motion  subdued  such 
energy  as  remained  to  her,  and  she  willingly  allowed  her 
hurried  feelings  to  rest  on  the  faces  of  rocks  impending  over 
long  ravines,  and  of  perched  old  castles  and  white  villas  and 
sub- Alpine  herds.  She  burst  from  the  fascination  as  from  a 
di'cam,  but  only  to  fall  into  it  again,  reproaching  her  weak- 


riEST  HOUKS  OF  THE  FLIGHT.  215 

ness,  and  gayinsr,  "  What  a  thini^  am  I !"  When  she  did 
make  her  voice  heard  by  Herr  Johannes  and  the  coachman, 
she  "was  nervous  and  ashamed,  and  met  the  equivocating 
pacification  of  the  reply  with  an  assent  half-way,  though  she 
was  far  from  comprehending  the  consolation  she  supposed 
that  it  was  meant  to  convey.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  com- 
municate with  Beppo.  Another  ball  of  pencilled  writing 
answered  to  it.  She  read  :  "  Keep  watch  on  this  Austrian 
Your  maid  is  two  hours  in  the  rear.  Refuse  to  be  separated 
from  me.     My  life  is  at  your  service. — Beppo." 

Vittoria  made  her  final  effort  to  get  a  resolve  of  some 
sort ;  ending  it  with  a  compassionate  exclamation  over  poor 
Giacinta.  The  girl  could  soon  find  her  way  back  to  Milan. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  farther  from  Milan,  the  less  the 
danger  to  Carlo's  relative,  in  whom  she  now  perceived  a 
stronger  likeness  to  her  lover.  She  sank  back  in  the  car- 
riage and  closed  her  eyes.  Though  she  smiled  at  the  vanity 
of  forcing  sleep  in  this  way,  sleep  came.  Her  healthy  frame 
seized  its  natural  medicine  to  rebuild  her  after  the  fever  of 
recent  days. 

She  slept  till  the  rocks  were  purple,  and  rose-purple  mists 
were  in  the  valleys.  The  stopping  of  the  carriage  aroused 
her.  They  were  at  the  threshold  of  a  large  wayside  hos- 
telry, fronting  a  slope  of  forest  and  a  plunging  brook. 
Whitecoats  in  all  attitudes  leaned  about  the  door;  she 
beheld  the  inner  court  full  of  them.  Herr  Johannes  was 
ready  to  hand  her  to  the  ground.  He  said :  "  You  havo 
nothing  to  fear.  These  fellows  are  on  the  march  to 
Cremona.  Perhaps  it  will  be  better  if  you  are  served  up  in 
your  chamber.     You  will  be  called  early  in  the  morning." 

She  thanked  him,  and  felt  grateful.  "Beppo,  look  to 
yourself,"  she  said,  and  ran  to  her  retirement. 

"  I  fancy  that's  about  all  that  you  are  fit  for,"  Herr 
Johannes  remarked,  with  his  eyes  on  the  impersonator  of 
Beppo,  who  bore  the  scrutiny  carelessly,  and  after  seeing 
that  Vittoria  had  left  nothing  on  the  carriage-seats,  directed 
his  steps  to  the  kitchen,  as  became  his  functions.  Herr 
Johannes  beckoned  to  a  Tyrolese  maid-servant,  of  whom 
Beppo  had  asked  his  way.     She  gave  her  name  as  Kiitchen. 

"  Kiitchen,  Katchen,  my  sweet  chuck,"  said  Herr  Johannes, 
"  here  are  ten  florins  for  you,  in  silver,  if  you  will  get  me  the 


2 1 6  VITTORIA. 

handkercliief  of  that  man :  you  have  just  stretclied  your 
finger  out  for  him." 

According  to  the  common  Austrian  reckoning  of  them, 
Herr  Johannes  had  adopted  the  right  method  for  ensuring 
the  devotion  of  the  maidens  of  Tyrol.  She  responded  with 
an  amazed  gulp  of  her  mouth  and  a  grimace  of  acquiescence. 
Ten  florins  in  silver  shortened  the  migratory  term  of  the 
mountain  girl  by  full  three  months.  Herr  Johannes  asked 
her  the  hour  when  the  ofiicers  in  command  had  supper,  and 
deferred  his  own  meal  till  that  time.  Katchen  set  about 
earning  her  money.  With  any  common  Beppo  it  would 
have  been  easy  enough — simple  barter  for  a  harmless  kiss. 
But  this  Beppo  appeared  inaccessible ;  he  was  so  courtly 
and  so  reserved ;  nor  is  a  maiden  of  Tyrol  a  particularly 
skilled  seductress.  The  supper  of  the  officers  was  smoking 
on  the  table  when  Herr  Johannes  presented  himself  among 
them,  and  very  soon  the  inn  was  shaken  with  an  uproar  of 
greeting.  Katchen  found  Beppo  listening  at  the  door  of  the 
Balle.     She  clapped  her  hands  upon  him  to  drag  him  away. 

"What  right  have  you  to  be  leaning  your  head  there?" 
she  said,  and  threatened  to  make  his  proceedings  known. 
Beppo  had  no  jewel  to  give,  little  money  to  spare.  He  had 
just  heard  Herr  Johannes  welcomed  among  the  officers  by  a 
name  that  half  paralyzed  him.  "  You  shall  have  anything 
you  ask  of  me  if  you  will  find  me  out  in  a  couple  of  hours," 
he  said.  Katchen  nodded  truce  for  that  period,  and  saw  her 
home  in  the  Oberinnthal  still  nearer — twelve  mountain  goats 
and  a  cow  her  undisputed  property.  She  found  him  out, 
though  he  had  strayed  through  the  court  of  the  inn,  and  down 
a  hanging  garden  to  the  borders  of  a  torrent  that  drenched 
the  air  and  sounded  awfully  in  the  dark  ravine  below.  Ho 
embraced  her  very  mildly.  "  One  scream  and  you  go,"  he 
said ;  she  felt  the  saving  hold  of  her  feet  plucked  from  her, 
with  all  the  sinking  horror,  and  bit  her  under  lip,  as  if 
keeping  in  the  scream  with  bare  stitches.  When  he  released 
her  she  was  perfectly  mastered.  "  You  do  play  tricks,"  she 
said,  and  quaked. 

"  I  play  no  tricks.  Tell  me  at  what  hour  these  soldiers 
march." 

"  At  two  in  the  morning." 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  silly  child  :  you're  safe  if  you  obey  me. 
At  what  time  has  our  caii^iage  been  ordered  ?" 


FIRST  HOURS  OF  THE  PLIGHT.  2l7 

"At  four." 

"  Now  swear  to  do  this  : — rouse  my  mistress  at  a  quartet 
past  two  :  bring  her  down  to  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Katchen,  eagerly :  "  give  me  your  hand- 
kerchief, and  she  will  follow  me.  I  do  swear ;  that  I  do ;  by 
big  St.  Christopher !  who's  painted  on  the  walls  of  our  house 
at  home." 

Beppo  handed  her  sweet  silver,  which  played  a  lively  tune 
for  her  temporarily- vanished  cow  and  goats.  Peering  at  her 
features  in  the  starlight,  he  let  her  take  the  handkerchief 
from  his  pocket. 

"  Oh  !  what  have  you  got  in  there  ?"  she  said. 

He  laid  his  finger  across  her  mouth,  bidding  her  return  to 
the  house. 

"  Dear  heaven  !"  Katchen  went  in  murmuring  ;  "  would 
I  have  gone  out  to  that  soft- looking  young  man  if  I  had 
known  he  was  a  devil." 

Angelo  Guidascarpi  was  aware  that  an  officer  without 
responsibility  never  sleeps  faster  than  when  his  brothers-in- 
arms have  to  be  obedient  to  the  reveillee.  At  two  in  the 
morning  the  bugle  rang  out :  many  lighted  cigars  were 
flashing  among  the  dark  passages  of  the  inn  ;  the  whitecoats 
were  disposed  in  marching  order ;  hot  coffee  was  hastily 
swallowed;  the  last  stragglers  from  the  stables,  the  out- 
houses, the  court,  and  the  straw  beds  under  roofs  of  rock, 
had  gathered  to  the  main  body.  The  march  set  forwai-d. 
A  pair  of  officers  sent  a  shout  up  to  the  drowsy  windows, 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  Weisspriess !"  Angelo  descended  from 
the  concealment  of  the  opposite  trees,  where  he  had  stationed 
himself  to  watch  the  departure.  The  inn  was  like  a  sleeper 
who  has  turned  over.  He  made  Katchen  bring  him  bread 
and  slices  of  meat  and  a  flask  of  wine,  which  things  found  a 
})lacc  in  his  pockets  :  and  paying  for  his  mistress  and  himself, 
he  awaited  Vittoria's  foot  on  the  stairs.  When  Vittoria  came 
she  asked  no  questions,  but  said  to  Kiitchcn,  "You  may  kiss 
me ;"  and  Kiitchen  began  crying ;  she  believed  that  they 
were  lovei'S  daring  everything  for  love. 

"  You  have  a  clear  start  of  an  hour  and  a  half.  Leave  the 
high-road  then,  and  turn  left  through  the  forest  and  ask  for 
UoiTTiio.  If  you  reach  lyrol,  and  como  to  Silz,  tell  people  <  ]iafc 
you  know  Katchen  Giesslinger,  and  tliey  will  be  kind  to  you." 

So  saying,  she  let  them  out  into  the  black-eyed  starlight. 


218 


VlTTOliU, 


CnAPTER  XXIV. 

ADTENTURBS  OF  VITTORIA  AND  ANGELO. 

Nothing  -was  distingnisliable  for  tlie  flying  couple  save  tte 
hig-h-road  winding  under  rock  and  forest,  and  here  and  there 
a  coursing  water  in  the  depths  of  the  ravines  that  showed 
like  a  vein  in  black  marble.  They  walked  swiftly,  keeping 
brisk  ears  for  sound  of  hoof  or  foot  behind  them.  Angelo 
promised  her  that  she  should  rest  after  the  morning  light 
bad  come ;  but  she  assured  him  that  she  could  bear  fatigue, 
and  her  firm  cheerfulness  lent  his  heart  vigour.  At  times 
they  were  hooded  with  the  darkness,  which  came  on  them  as 
if,  as  benighted  children  fancy,  their  faces  were  about  to 
meet  the  shaggy  breast  of  the  forest.  Rising  up  to  lighter 
air,  they  had  sight  of  distant  twinklings :  it  might  be  city, 
or  autumn  weed,  or  fires  of  the  woodmen,  or  beacon  fires : 
they  glimmered  like  eyelets  to  the  mystery  of  the  vast  unseen 
land.  Innumerable  brooks  went  talking  to  the  night :  tor- 
rents in  seasons  of  rain,  childish  voices  now,  with  endless 
involutions  of  a  song  of  three  notes  and  a  sort  of  unnoted 
clanging  chorus,  as  if  a  little  one  sang  and  would  sing  on 
through  the  thumping  of  a  tambourine  and  bells.  Vittoria 
had  these  fancies :  Angelo  had  none.  He  walked  like  a 
hunted  man  whose  life  is  at  stake. 

"  If  we  reach,  a  village  soon  we  may  get  some  conveyance," 
lie  said. 

"  1  would  rather  walk  than  drive,"  said  Vittoria ;  "  it 
keeps  me  from  thinking." 

"  There  is  the  dawn,  signorina." 

Vittoiia  frightened  him  by  taking  a  seat  upon  a  bench  of 
rook ;  while  it  was  still  dai-k  about  them,  she  drew  off 
Camilla's  silken  shoes  and  stockings,  and  stood  on  bare  feet. 

"  You  fancied  I  was  tired,"  she  said.  "  ]S"o,  I  am  thrifty ; 
and  I  want  to  save  as  much  of  my  finery  as  I  can.  I  can  go 
very  well  on  naked  feet.  These  shoes  are  no  protection; 
they  would  be  worn  out  in  half  a  day,  and  spoilt  for  decent 
wearing  in  another  hour." 

The  sight  of  fair  feet  upon  hard  earth  troubled  Angelo; 
he  excused  himself  for  calling  her  out  to  endure  hardship  j 


ADVENTURES  OF  VITTORIA  AND  ANQELO.  219 

but  she  said,  "I  trust  yon  entirely."  She  looked  up  at  tho 
first  thin  wave  of  colour  while  walking. 

"You  do  not  know  me,"  said  he. 

"  You  are  the  Countess  Amniiani's  nephew." 

"  I  have,  as  I  had  the  honour  to  tell  you  yesterday,  the 
blood  of  your  lover  in  my  veins." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  him  now,  I  pray,"  said  Vittoria;  "I  want 
my  strength." 

"  Sig-norina,  the  man  we  have  left  behind  us  is  his  enemy  ; 
— mine.  I  would  rather  see  you  dead  than  alive  in  his 
hands.     Do  you  fear  death  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  ;  when  I  am  half  awake,"  she  confessed.  "  I 
dislike  thinking  of  it." 

He  asked  her  curiously  :  "  Have  you  never  seen  it  ?  " 

"  Death  ?  "  said  she,  and  changed  a  shudder  to  a  smile ; 
»*I  died  last  night." 

Angelo  smiled  with  her.     "  I  saw  you  die." 

"  It  seems  a  hundred  years  ago." 

"  Or  half-a-dozen  minutes.  The  heart  counts  every, 
thing." 

"  Was  I  very  much  liked  by  the  people,  Signor  Angelo  ?" 

"  They  love  you." 

*'  I  have  done  them  no  good." 

"  Every  possible  good.  And  now,  mine  is  the  duty  to  pro- 
tect you." 

"  And  yesterday  we  were  stransfers  I  Signor  Anirelo,  you 
epoke  of  sbirri.  There  is  no  rising  in  Bologna.  Why  are 
they  after  you  ?     You  look  too  gentle  to  give  them  cause." 

"  Do  I  look  gentle  ?  But  what  I  carry  is  no  burden. 
Who  that  saw  you  last  night  would  know  you  for  Camilla  ? 
You  will  hear  of  my  deeds,  and  judge.  We  shall  soon  have 
men  upon  the  road  ;  you  must  be  hidden.  See,  there  :  there 
are  our  colours  in  the  sky.  Austria  cannot  wipe  them  out. 
Since  I  was  a  boy  1  have  always  slept  in  a  bed  facing  East, 
to  keep  that  truth  before  my  eyes.  Black  and  yellow  drop 
to  the  earth  :  green,  white  and  red  mount  to  heaven.  If 
more  of  my  countrymen  saw  these  meanings  ! — but  they  are 
learning  to.  My  tutor  called  them  Germanisms.  If  so,  I 
have  stolen  a  jewel  from  my  enemy." 

Vittoria  mentioned  the  Chief. 

"Yes,"  said  Angelo;  "he  has  taught  us  to  read  God'a 
handwriting.     I  revere  him.     It's  odd ;    I  always   fancy  1 


220  VITTORIA. 

hear  his  voice  from  a  dTingeon,  and  seeing  him  looking  at 
one  light.  He  has  a  fault :  he  does  not  comprehend  the 
feelings  of  a  nobleman.  Do  you  think  he  has  made  a  convert 
of  our  Carlo  in  that  ?     Never!     High  blood  is  ineradicable." 

"  I  am  not  of  high  blood,"  said  Vittoria. 

"  Countess  Ammiani  overlooks  it.  And  besides,  low  blood 
may  be  elevated  without  the  intervention  of  a  miracle.  You 
have  a  noble  heart,  signorina.  It  may  be  the  will  of  God 
that  you  should  perpetuate  our  race.  All  of  us  save  Carlo 
Ammiani  seem  to  be  falling." 

Vittoria  bent  her  head,  distressed  by  a  broad  beam  of  sun- 
light. The  country  undulating  to  the  plain  lay  under  them, 
the  great  Alps  above,  and  much  covert  on  all  sides.  They 
entered  a  forest  pathway,  following  chance  for  safety.  The 
dark  leafage  and  low  green  roofing  tasted  sweeter  to  their 
senses  than  clear  air  and  sky.  Dark  woods  are  homes  to 
fugitives,  and  here  there  was  soft  footing,  a  surrounding 
gentleness, — grass,  and  moss  with  dead  leaves  peacefully  flat 
on  it.  The  birds  were  not  timorous,  and  when  a  lizard  or  a 
snake  slipped  away  from  her  feet,  it  was  amusing  to  Vit- 
toria and  did  not  hurt  her  tenderness  to  see  that  they  were 
feared.  Threading  on  beneath  the  trees,  they  wound  by  a 
valley's  incline,  where  tumbled  stones  blocked  the  course  of 
a  green  water,  and  filled  the  lonely  place  with  one  onward 
voice.  When  the  sun  stood  over  the  valley  they  sat  beneath 
a  chestnut  tree  in  a  semicircle  of  orange  rock  to  eat  the  food 
which  Angelo  had  procured  at  the  inn.  He  poured  out  wine 
for  her  in  the  hollow  of  a  stone,  deep  as  an  egg-shell, 
whereat  she  sipped,  smiling  at  simple  contrivances ;  but  no 
smile  crossed  the  face  of  Angelo.  He  ate  and  drank  to  sus- 
tain his  strength,  as  a  weapon  is  sharpened  ;  and  having 
done,  he  gathered  up  what  was  left,  and  lay  at  her  feet 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  an  old  grey  stone.  She,  too,  sat 
brooding.  The  endless  babble  and  noise  of  the  water  had 
hardened  the  sense  of  its  being  a  life  in  that  solitude. 
The  floatins:  of  a  hawk  overhead  scarce  had  the  character 
of  an  animated  thing.  Angelo  turned  round  to  look  at 
her,  and  looking  upward  as  he  lay,  his  sight  was  smitten 
by  spots  of  blood  upon  one  of  her  torn  white  feet,  that  was 
but  half-nestled  in  the  folds  of  her  dress.  Bending  his  head 
down  like  e  bird  beaking  at  prey,  he  kissed  the  foot  passion- 
ately.    Vittoria's  eyelids  ran  up ;    a  chord  seemed  to  snap 


ADVENTURES  OF  VITTORIA  AND  ANGELO.  221 

witliin  her  ears  :  she  stole  the  shamed  foot  into  concealment, 
and  throbbed,  but  not  fearfully,  for  Angelo's  forehead  was 
on  the  earth.  Clumps  of  grass,  and  sharp  flint-dust  stuck 
between  his  fists,  which  were  thrust  out  stilf  on  either  side 
of  him.  She  heard  him  groan  heavily.  When  he  raised  his 
face,  it  was  white  as  madness.  Her  womanly  nature  did 
not  shrink  from  caressing  it  with  a  touch  of  soothing-  hands. 

She  chanced  to  say,  "  I  am  your  sister." 

"  No,  bv  God  !  you  are  not  my  sister,"  cried  the  young 
man.  "  She  died  without  a  stain  of  blood  ;  a  lily  from  head 
to  foot,  and  went  into  the  vault  so.  Our  mother  will  see 
that.  Slie  will  kiss  the  girl  in  heaven  and  see  that."  He 
rose,  crying  louder:  "Are  there  echoes  here?"  But  his 
voice  beat  against  the  rocks  undoubled. 

She  saw  that  a  frenzy  had  seized  him.  He  looked  with 
eyes  drained  of  human  objects ;  standing  square,  Avith  stiff 
half-dropped  arms,  and  an  intense  melody  of  wretchedness 
in  his  voice. 

"  Kinaldo,  Rinaldo  !"  he  shouted  :  "  Clelia  ! — no  answer 
from  man  or  ghost.  She  is  dead.  We  two  said  to  hei- — 
die  !  and  she  died.  Thex-efore  she  is  silent,  for  the  dead  have 
not  a  word.  Oh  !  Milan,  Milan !  accursed  betraying  city ! 
I  should  have  found  my  work  in  you  if  you  had  kept  faith. 
Kow  here  am  I,  talking  to  the  strangled  throat  of  this  place, 
and  can  get  no  answer.  Where  am  I  ?  The  world  is 
hollow  : — the  miserable  shell  !  They  lied.  Battle  and 
slaughter  they  promised  me,  and  enemies  like  ripe  maize  for 
the  reaping-hook.  I  would  have  had  them  in  thick  to  my 
hands.  I  would  have  washed  my  hands  at  night,  and  eaten 
and  drunk  and  slept,  and  sung  again  to  work  in  the  morning. 
They  promised  me  a  sword  and  a  sea  to  plunge  it  in,  and  our 
mother  Italy  to  bless  me.  I  would  have  toiled :  I  would 
have  done  good  in  my  life.  I  would  have  bathed  my  soul  in 
our  colours.  I  wouhl  have  had  our  flag  about  my  body  for  a 
winding-sheet,  and  the  fighting  angels  of  God  to  unroll  me. 
Now  here  ara  I,  and  my  own  pale  mother  trying  at  every 
turn  to  get  in  front  of  me.  Have  her  away  !  It's  a  ghost, 
I  know.  She  will  be  touching  the  strength  out  of  me.  She 
is  not  the  mother  I  love  and  I  serve.  Go :  cherish  your 
daughter,  you  dead  woman!" 

Angelo  reeled.  "  A  spot  of  blood  has  sent  me  mad,"  lie 
Raid,  and  caught  for  a  darkness  to  cross  his  sight,  and  fell 
and  lav  flat. 


222  VITTORIA. 

Vittoria  looked  around  her;  her  courage  was  needed  in 

that  long*  silence. 

She  adopted  his  language  :  "  Our  mother  Italy  is  waiting 
for  us.  We  must  travel  on,  and  not  be  weary.  Angelo,  my 
friend,  lend  me  your  help  over  these  stones." 

He  rose  quietly.  She  laid  her  elbow  on  his  hand ;  thus 
supported  she  left  a  place  that  seemed  to  shudder.  All  the 
heavy  day  they  walked  almost  silently  ;  she  not  daring  to 
probe  his  anguish  with  a  question;  and  he  calm  and  vacant 
as  the  hour  following  thunder.  But,  of  her  safety  by  his 
side  she  had  no  longer  a  doubt.  She  let  him  gather  weeds 
and  grasses,  and  bind  them  across  her  feet,  and  perform 
friendly  services,  sure  that  nothing  earthly  could  cause  such 
a  mental  tempest  to  recur.  The  considerate  observation 
which  at  all  seasons  belongs  to  true  courage  told  her  that  it 
was  not  madness  afflicting  Angelo. 

N"ear  nightfall  they  came  upon  a  forester's  hut,  where 
they  were  welcomed  by  an  old  man  and  a  little  girl,  wlio 
gave  them  milk  and  black  bread,  and  straw  to  rest  on. 
Angelo  slept  in  the  outer  air.  When  Vittoria  awoke  she 
had  the  fancy  that  she  had  taken  one  long  dive  downward 
in  a  well,  and  on  touching  the  bottom  found  her  head  above 
the  surface.  While  her  surprise  was  wearing  off,  she  beheld 
the  woodman's  little  gn-l  at  her  feet  holding  up  one  end 
of  her  cloak,  and  peeping  underneath,  overcome  by  amaze- 
ment at  the  flashing  richncs.«  of  the  dress  of  the  heroine 
Camilla.  Entering  into  the  state  of  her  mind  spontaneously, 
Vittoria  sought  to  induce  the  child  to  kiss  her ;  but  quite 
vainly.  The  child's  reverence  for  the  dress  allowed  her  only 
to  be  within  reach  of  the  hem  of  it,  so  as  to  delight  her 
curiosity.  Vittoria  smiled  when,  as  she  sat  up,  the  child 
fell  back  against  the  wall ;  and  as  she  rose  to  her  feet,  the 
child  scampered  from  the  room.  "  My  poor  Camilla !  you 
can  charm  somebody,  yet,"  she  said,  limping;  her  visage 
like  a  broken  water  with  the  pain  of  her  feet.  "  If  the  bell 
rings  for  Camilla  now,  what  sort  of  an  entry  will  she  make  ?" 
Vittoria  treated  her  physical  weakness  and  ailments  with 
this  spirit  of  humour.  "  They  may  say  that  Michiella  has 
bowitched  you,  my  Camilla.  1  think  your  voice  would 
sound  as  if  it  were  dragging  its  feet  after  it — just  as  a  stork 
flies.  O  my  Camilla !  don't  I  wash  I  could  do  the  same,  and 
be  ungraceful  and  at  ease !    A  moan  is  marrird  to  everv  note 


ADVENTURES  OP  VITTOEIA  AND  ANGELO.  223 

of  yonr  treble,  my  Camilla,  like  December  and  May.  Keep 
me  from  shrieking!" 

The  pangs  shooting  from  her  feet  were  scarce  bearable, 
but  the  repression  of  them  helped  her  to  meet  Angelo  with 
a  freer  mind  than,  after  the  interval  of  separation,  she  would 
have  had.  The  old  woodman  was  cooking  a  queer  composi- 
tion of  flour  and  milk  sprinkled  with  salt  for  them.  Angelo 
cut  a  stout  cloth  to  encase  each  of  her  feet,  and  bound  them 
in  it.  He  was  more  cheerful  than  she  had  ever  seen  him, 
and  now  first  spoke  of  their  destination.  His  design  was  to 
conduct  her  near  to  Bormio,  there  to  engage  a  couple  of  men 
in  her  service  who  would  accompany  her  to  Meran,  by  the 
Val  di  Sole,  while  he  crossed  the  Stelvio  alone,  and  turning 
leftward  in  the  Tyrolese  valley,  tried  the  passage  into  Switz- 
erland. Bormio,  if,  when  they  quitted  the  forest,  a  con- 
veyance could  be  obtained,  was  no  more  than  a  short  day's 
distance,  according  to  the  old  woodman's  directions.  Vittoria 
induced  the  little  girl  to  sit  upon  her  knee,  and  sang  to  her, 
but  greatly  unspirited  the  charm  of  her  dress.  The  sun  was 
rising  as  they  bade  adieu  to  the  hut. 

About  mid-day  they  quitted  the  shelter  of  forest  trees 
and  stood  on  broken  ground,  without  a  path  to  guide  them. 
VittoHa  did  her  best  to  laugh  at  her  mishaps  in  walking, 
and  compared  herself  to  a  Capuchin  pilgi'im ;  but  she  was 
unused  to  going  bareheaded  and  shoeless,  and  though  she 
held  on  bravely,  the  strong  beams  of  the  sun  and  the  stony 
ways  warped  her  strength.  She  had  to  check  fancies  drawn 
from  Arabian  tales,  concerning  the  help  sometimes  given  by 
genii  of  the  air  and  enchanted  birds,  that  were  so  incessant 
and  vivid  that  she  found  herself  sulking  at  the  loneliness 
and  helplessness  of  the  visible  sky,  and  feared  that  her  brain 
was  losino'  its  hold  of  thintrs.  Anofelo  led  her  to  a  half- 
shaded  hollow,  where  they  finished  the  remainder  of  yester- 
day's meat  and  wine.  She  set  her  eyes  upon  a  gold-green 
lizard  by  a  stone  and  slept. 

"  The  quantity  of  sleep  I  require  is  unmeasured,"  she  said, 
a  minute  afterwards,  according  to  her  reckoning  of  time, 
and  expected  to  see  the  lizard  still  by  the  stone.  Angelo 
was  near  her ;  the  sky  was  full  of  colours,  and  the  earth  of 
shadows. 

"  Another  day  gone  !"  she  exclaimed  in  wonrlerment, 
thinking  that  the  days  of  human  creatures  had  grown  to  be 


224  VITTOEIA. 

as  rapid  and  (save  toward  the  one  end)  as  mcanincfless  as 
the  gaspings  of  a  fish  on  dry  land.  He  told  her  that  he  had 
explored  the  country  as  far  as  he  had  dared  to  stray  from 
her.  He  had  seen  no  habitation  along  the  heights.  The 
vale  was  too  distant  for  strangers  to  reach  it  before  night- 
fall. "  We  can  make  a  little  way  on,"  said  Vittoria,  and  the 
trouble  of  walking  began  again.  He  entreated  her  more 
than  once  to  have  no  fear.  "  What  can  I  fear  r"'  she  asked. 
His  voice  sank  penitently :  "  You  can  rely  on  me  fully  when 
there  is  anything  to  do  for  you." 

"  I  am  sure  of  that,"  she  replied,  knowing  his  allusion  to 
be  to  his  frenzy  of  yesterday.  In  truth,  no  woman  could 
have  had  a  gentler  companion. 

On  the  topmost  ridge  of  the  heights,  looking  over  an 
interminable  gulf  of  darkness  they  saw  the  lights  of  the 
vale.  "  A  bird  might  find  his  perch  there,  but  I  think  there 
is  no  chance  for  us,"  said  Vittoria.  "  The  moment  we  move 
forward  to  them  the  lights  will  fly  back.  It  is  their  way  of 
behaving." 

Angelo  glanced  round  desperately.  Farther  on  along  the 
ridge  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  low  smouldering  fire.  When 
he  reached  it  he  had  a  great  disappointment.  A  fire  in  the 
darkness  gives  hopes  that  men  will  be  at  hand.  Here  there 
was  not  any  human  society.  The  fire  crouched  on  its  ashes. 
It  was  on  a  little  circular  eminence  of  mossed  rock ;  black 
sticks,  and  brushwood,  and  dry  fern,  and  split  logs,  pitchy 
to  the  touch,  lay  about ;  in  the  centre  of  them  the  fire  coiled 
sulhmly  among  its  ashes,  with  a  long  eye  like  a  serpent's. 

"  Could  you  sleep  here  ?"  said  Angelo. 

**  Anywhere  !"  Vittoria  sighed  with  droll  dolefulness. 

*'  I  can  promise  to  keep  you  warm,  signorina." 

"  I  will  not  ask  for  more  till  to-morrow,  my  friend." 

She  laid  herself  down  sideways,  cui'ling  up  her  feet,  with 
her  cheek  on  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

Angelo  knelt  and  coaxed  the  fire,  whose  appetite,  like  that 
which  is  said  to  be  ours,  was  fed  by  eating,  for  after  the  red 
jaws  had  taken  half-a-dozen  sticks,  it  sang  out  for  more,  and 
sent  up  flame  leaping  after  flame  and  thick  smoke.  Vittoria 
watched  the  scene  through  a  thin  division  of  her  eyelids ; 
the  fire,  the  black  abyss  of  country,  the  stars,  and  the  sen- 
tinel figure.  She  dozed  on  the  edge  of  sleep,  unable  to  yield 
herself  to  it  wholly.     She  believed  that  she  was  dreaming 


ADVENTURES  OF  VITTOKIA  AND  ANGELO.  225 

when  by-and-by  many  voices  filled  her  ears.  The  fire  was 
sounding  like  an  angry  sea,  and  the  voices  were  like  the 
shore,  more  intelligible,  but  confused  in  shriller  clamour. 
She  was  awakened  by  Angelo,  who  knelt  on  one  knee  and 
took  her  outlying  hand  ;  then  she  saw  that  men  surrounded 
them,  some  of  whom  were  hurling  the  lighted  logs  about, 
some  trampling  down  the  outer  rim  of  flames.  They  looked 
devilish  to  a  first  awakening  glance.  He  told  her  that  the 
men  were  friendly ;  they  were  good  Italians.  This  had  been 
the  beacon  arranged  for  the  night  of  the  Fifteenth,  when  no 
run  of  signals  was  seen  from  Milan  ;  and  yesterday  after- 
noon it  had  been  in  mockery  partially  consumed.  "  We 
have  aroused  the  country,  signorina,  and  brought  these  poor 
fellows  out  of  their  beds.  They  supposed  that  Milan  must 
be  up  and  at  work.     I  have  explained  everything  to  them." 

Vittoria  had  rather  to  receive  their  excuses  than  to  proffer 
her  own.  They  were  mostly  youths  dressed  like  the  better 
class  of  peasantry.  They  laughed  at  the  incident,  stating 
tow  glad  they  would  have  been  to  behold  the  heights  all 
across  the  lakes  ablaze  and  promising  action  for  the  morrow. 
One  square-shouldered  fellow  raised  her  lightly  from  the 
ground.  She  felt  lerself  to  be  a  creature  for  whom  circum- 
stance was  busily  plotting,  so  that  it  was  useless  to  exert  her 
mind  in  thought.  The  long  procession  sank  down  the  dark- 
ness, leaving  the  low  red  fire  to  die  out  behind  them. 

Next  morning  she  awoke  in  a  warm  bed,  possessed  by 
odd  images  of  flames  that  stood  up  like  crowing  cocks,  and 
cowered  like  hens  above  the  brood.  She  Mas  in  the  house 
of  one  of  their  new  friends,  and  she  could  hear  Angelo  talk- 
ing in  the  adjoining  room.  A  conveyance  was  ready  to  take 
her  on  to  Bormio.  A  woman  came  to  her  to  tell  her  this, 
appearing  to  have  a  dull  desire  to  get  her  gone.  She  was  a 
draggled  woman,  with  a  face  of  slothful  anguish,  like  one 
of  the  ioner  spectres  of  a  guilty  man.  She  said  that  her 
husband  was  willing  to  drive  the  lady  to  Bormio  for  a  sum 
that  was  to  be  paid  at  once  into  his  wife's  hand ;  and  little 
enough  it  was  which  poor  persons  could  ever  look  for  from 
your  patriots  and  distui-bers  who  seduced  orderly  men  from 
their  labour,  and  made  widows  and  ruined  households.  This 
was  a  new  Itulian  language  to  Vittoria,  and  when  the  woman 
went  on  giving  instances  of  households  ruined  by  a  husband's 
vilo  iul'utuatioa   about  his  country,  she  did  not  attempt  to 

Q 


226  VITTORIA. 

defend  the  reckless  lord,  but  dressed  quickly  ttat  she  mi^ht 
leave  the  house  as  soon  as  she  could.  Her  stock  of  money 
barely  satisfied  the  woman's  demand.  The  woman  seized  it, 
and  secreted  it  in  her  girdle.  When  they  had  passed  into 
the  sitting-room,  her  husband,  who  was  sitting  conversing 
with  Angelo,  stretched  out  his  hand  and  knocked  the 
girdle. 

"  That's  our  trick,"  he  said.  "  I  guessed  so.  Fund  up, 
our  little  Maria  of  the  dirty  fingers'-ends !  We  accept  no 
money  from  true  patriots.  Grub  in  other  ground,  my 
dear  !" 

The  woman  stretched  her  throat  awry,  and  set  up  a  howl 
like  a  dog ;  but  her  claws  came  out  when  he  seized  her. 

"  Would  you  disgrace  me,  old  fowl  ?" 

"  Lorenzo,  may  you  rot  like  a  pumpkin  !" 

The  connubial  reciprocities  were  sharp  until  the  money 
lay  on  the  table,  when  the  woman  began  whining  so  miser- 
ably that  Vittoria's  sensitive  nerves  danced  on  her  face,  and 
at  her  authoritative  interposition,  Lorenzo  very  reluctantly 
permitted  his  wife  to  take  what  he  chose  to  reckon  a  fair 
poi-tion  of  the  money,  and  also  of  his  contempt.  She  seemed 
to  be  licking  the  money  up,  she  bent  over  it  so  greedily. 

"  Poor  wretch !"  he  observed  ;  "  she  was  born  on  a  hired 
bed." 

Vittoria  felt  that  the  recollection  of  this  woman  would 
haunt  her.  It  was  inconceivable  to  her  that  a  handsome 
young  man  like  Lorenzo  should  ever  have  wedded  the 
unsweet  creature,  who  was  like  a  crawling  image  of  decay ; 
but  he,  as  if  to  account  for  his  taste,  said  that  they  had  been 
of  a  common  age  once,  when  he  married  her ;  now  she  had 
grown  old.  He  repeated  that  she  "  was  born  on  a  hired 
bed."     They  saw  nothing  further  of  her. 

Vittoria's  desire  was  to  get  to  Meran  speedily,  that  she 
might  see  her  friends,  and  have  tidings  of  her  lover  and  the 
city.  Those  baffled  beacon-flames  on  the  heights  had 
become  an  irritating  indicative  vision :  she  thirsted  for  the 
history.  Lorenzo  offered  to  conduct  her  over  the  Tonale 
Pass  into  the  Val  di  Sole,  or  up  the  Yal  Furva,  by  the  pass 
of  the  Corno  dei  Tre  Signori,  into  the  Val  del  Monte  to  Pejo, 
thence  by  Cles,  or  by  Bolzano,  to  Meran.  But  she  required 
shooing  and  refitting ;  and  for  other  reasons  also,  she  deter- 
mine I  to  go  on  to  Borraio.     She  supposed  that  Angelo  had 


ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS.  227 

little  money,  and  that  in  a  place  such  as  Bormio  sounded  to 
her  ears  she  mig-ht  possibly  obtain  the  change  for  the  great 
money-order  which  the  triumph  of  her  singing  had  won 
from  Antonio-Pericles.  In  spite  of  Angelo's  appeals  to  her 
to  hurry  on  to  the  end  of  her  journey  without  tempting 
chance  by  a  single  pause,  she  resolved  to  go  to  Bormio. 
Lorenzo  privately  assured  her  that  there  were  bankers  in 
Bormio.  Many  bankers,  he  said,  came  there  from  Milan, 
and  that  fact  she  thought  sufficient  for  her  purpose.  The 
wanderers  parted  regretfully.  A  little  chapel,  on  a  hillock 
off  the  road,  shaded  by  chestnuts,  was  pointed  out  to  Lorenzo 
where  to  bring  a  letter  for  Angelo.  Vittoria  begged  Angelo 
to  wait  till  he  heard  from  her ;  and  then,  with  mutual 
■\vavings  of  hands,  she  was  driven  out  of  his  sight. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ACROSS    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


After  parting  from  Vittoria,  Angelo  made  his  way  to  an 
inn,  where  he  ate  and  drank  like  a  man  of  the  fields,  and 
slept  with  the  power  of  one  from  noon  till  after  morning. 
The  innkeeper  cajne  up  to  his  room,  and,  finding  him  awake, 
asked  him  if  he  was  disposed  to  take  a  second  holiday  in 
bed.  Angelo  jumped  up ;  as  he  did  so,  his  stiletto  slipped 
from  under  his  pillow  and  flashed. 

"  That's  a  pretty  bit  of  steel,"  said  the  innkeeper,  but 
could  not  get  a  word  out  of  him.  It  was  plain  to  Angelo 
tluit  this  fellow  had  suspicions.  Angelo  had  been  careful  to 
tie  up  his  clothes  in  a  bundle ;  there  was  nothing  for  tho 
innkeeper  to  see,  save  a  young  man  in  bed,  who  had  a 
terrible  weapon  near  his  hand,  and  a  look  in  his  eyes  of 
wary  indolence  that  counselled  prudent  dealing's.  He  went 
out,  and  returned  a  second  and  a  third  time,  talking  more 
and  more  confusedly  and  fretfully ;  but  as  he  was  again 
going  to  leave,  "  No,  no,"  said  Angelo,  determined  to  give 
him  a  lesson,  "  I  have  taken  a  liking  to  your  company. 
Here,  come  here  ;  I  will  show  you  a  trick.  I  learnt  it  from 
the  Servians  when  I  was  tlir(;u  feet  high.     Look;  I  lie  quite 

q2 


228  VITTOEIA. 

still,  you  observe.  Try  to  get  on  the  other  side  of  that  door 
and  the  point  of  this  blade  shall  scratch  you  through  it." 
Angelo  laid  the  blue  stilet  up  his  wrist,  and  slightly  curled 
his  arm.  "  Try,"  he  repeated,  but  the  innkeeper  had 
stopped  shoi't  in  his  movement  to  the  door.  "  Well,  then, 
stay  where  you  are,"  said  Angelo,  "  and  look  ;  I'll  be  as  good 
as  my  word.  There's  the  point  I  shall  strike."  With  that 
he  gave  the  peculiar  Servian  jerk  of  the  muscles,  from  the 
wrist  up  to  the  arm,  and  the  blade  quivered  on  the  mark. 
The  innkeeper  fell  back  in  admiring  horror.  "  Now  fetch  it 
to  me,"  said  Angelo,  putting  both  arms  carelessly  under^  his 
head.  The  innkeeper  tugged  at  the  blade.  "  Illustrious 
signore,  I  am  afraid  of  breaking  it,"  he  almost  whimpered; 
*'  it  seems  alive,  does  it  not  ?" 

"  Like  a  hawk  on  a  small  bird,"  said  Angelo  ;  "  that's  the 
beauty  of  those  blades.  They  kill,  and  put  you  to  as  little 
pain  as  a  shot ;  and  it's  better  than  a  shot  in  your  breast — 
there's  something  to  show  for  it.  Send  up  your  wife  or  your 
daughter  to  take  orders  about  my  breakfast.  It's  the  break- 
fast of  five  mountaineers;  and  don't  'Illustrious  signore'  mo, 

sir,  either  in  my  hearing  or  out  of  it.     Leave  the  knife  stick- 

•       )> 

mg. 

The  innkeeper  sidled  out  with  a  dumb  salute.  "  I  can 
count  on  his  discretion  for  a  couple  of  hours,"  Angelo  said 
to  himself.  He  knew  the  effect  of  an  exhibition  of  physical 
dexterity  and  strength  upon  a  coward.  The  landlord's 
daughter  came  and  received  his  orders  for  breakfast.  Angelo 
inquired  whether  they  had  been  visited  by  Germans  of  late. 
The  girl  told  him  that  a  German  chasseur  with  a  couple  oi 
soldiers  had  called  them  up  last  night. 

"  Wouldn't  it  have  been  a  pity  if  they  had  dragged  me  out 
and  shot  me  ?"  said  Angelo.  ' 

"  But  they  were  after  a  lady,"  she  explained  ;  "  they  have 
gone  on  to  Bormio,  and  expect  to  catch  her  there  or  in  the 
mountains." 

"  Better  there  than  in  the  mountains,  my  dear;  don't  you 
think  so  y" 

The  girl  said  that  she  would  not  like  to  meet  those  fellows 
among  the  mountains. 

"  Suppose  you  were  among  the  mountains,  and  those 
fellows  came  up  with  youj  wouldn't  you  clap  your  hands  to 


ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS.  229 

Bee  me  jumping  down  right  in  front  of  you  all  ?"  said 
Angelo. 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  she  admitted.  "  What  is  one  man 
though  !" 

"  Something,  if  he  feeds  like  five.  Quick !  I  must  eat. 
Have  you  a  lover  ?" 

"  Yes." 

*'  Fancy  you  are  waiting  on  him." 

"  He's  only  a  middling  lover,  signore.  He  lives  at  Cles, 
over  Yal  Pejo,  in  Yal  di  Non,  a  long  wa}^,  and  courts  mo 
twice  a  year,  when  he  comes  over  to  do  carpentering.  He 
cuts  very  pretty  Madonnas.     He  is  a  German." 

"  Ha  !  you  kneel  to  the  Madonna,  and  give  your  lips  to  a 
German  ?     Go." 

"  But  1  don't  like  him  much,  signore  ;  it's  my  father  who 
wishes  me  to  have  him ;  he  can  make  money." 

Angelo  motioned  to  her  to  be  gone,  saying  to  himself,  "  That 
father  of  hers  would  betray  the  saints  for  a  handful  of 
florins." 

He  dressed,  and  wrenched  his  knife  from  the  door.  Hear- 
ing the  clatter  of  a  horse  at  the  porch,  he  stopped  as  he  was 
descending  the  stairs.  A  German  voice  said,  "  Sure  enough, 
my  jolly  landlord,  she's  there,  in  Worms — your  Bormio. 
Found  her  at  the  big  hotel :  spoke  not  a  syllable ;  stole 
away,  stole  away.  One  chopin  of  wine  !  I'm  off  on  four  legs 
to  the  captain.  Those  lads  who  are  after  her  by  Roveredo 
and  Trent  have  bad  noses.  '  Poor  nose — empty  belly.'  Says 
the  captain,  '  I  stick  at  the  point  of  the  cross-roads.'  Says  I, 
'  Herr  Captain,  I'm  back  to  you  first  of  the  lot.'  My  busi- 
ness is  to  find  the  runaway  lady — pretty  Fraulein  !  pretty 
Friiulein  !  la'i-a'i  !  There's  money  on  her  servant,  too  ;  he's 
a  disguised  Excellency — a  handsome  boy ;  but  he  has  cut 
himself  loose,  and  he  go  hang.  Two  birds  for  the  pride  of 
the  thing  ;  one  for  satisfaction — I'm  satisfied.  I've  killed 
chamois  in  my  time.  Jacob,  I  am ;  Baumwalder,  I  am ; 
Fcckelwitz,  likewise ;  and  the  very  devil  for  following  a 
track.     Ach !  the  wine  is  good.     You  know  the  song  ?— 

*  He  who  drinks  wine,  he  may  cry  with  a  will, 
Fortune  is  mine,  may  she  stick  to  me  still.' 

I  give  it  you  in  German — the  language  o£  song  !  my  owtx, 
my  native  !  lai-ai — lai-ai — la-la-lai-ai-i-iii  I 


230  VITTORIA. 

«  While  stars  still  sit 
On  mountain  tops, 
I  take  my  gun, 
Kiss  little  one 

On  mother's  breast. 
Ai-iu-e  J 

My  pipe  is  lit, 
I  climb  the  slopes, 
I  meet  the  dawn — 
A  little  one 

On  mother's  breast. 

Ai-aie:  ta-ta-tat:  iv-hi-m-i  P 

Another  cLopIn,  my  jolly  landlord.  What's  that  you're 
mumbling  ?  About  the  servant  of  my  runaway  young  lady  ? 
He  go  hang  !     What? " 

Angelo  struck  his  foot  heavily  on  the  stairs ;  the  inn- 
keeper coughed  and  ran  back,  bowing  to  his  guest.  The 
chasseur  cried,  "  I'll  drink  farther  on — wine  between  gaps  !" 
A  coin  chinked  on  the  steps  in  accompaniment  to  the 
chasseur's  departing  gallop.  "  Beast  of  a  Tedesco,"  the 
landlord  exclaimed  as  he  picked  up  the  money ;  "  they  do 
the  reckoning— not  we.  If  I  had  served  him  with  the 
worth  of  this,  1  should  have  had  the  bottle  at  my  head. 
What  a  country  ours  is  !  We're  ridden  over,  ridden  over  !" 
Angelo  compelled  the  landlord  to  nit  with  him  while  he  ate  like 
five  mountaineers.  He  left  mere  bones  on  the  table.  "  It's  won- 
derful," said  the  innkeeper  ;  "  yon  can't  know  what  fear  is." 

"I  think  I  don't,"  Angelo  replied;  "you  do;  cowards 
have  to  serve  every  party  in  turn.  Up,  and  follow  at  my 
heels  till  I  dismiss  you.  You  know  the  pass  into  the  Val 
Pejo  and  the  Val  di  Sole."  The  innkeeper  stood  entrenched 
behind  a  sturdy  negative.  Angelo  eased  him  to  submission 
by  telling  him  that  he  only  wanted  tlie  way  to  be  pointed 
out.  "  Bring  tobacco ;  you're  going  to  have  an  idle  day," 
said  Angelo :  "  I  pay  you  when  we  separate."  He  was 
deaf  to  entreaties  and  refusals,  and  began  to  look  mad  about 
the  eyes ;  his  poor  coward  plied  him  with  expostulations, 
offered  his  wife,  his  daughter,  half  the  village,  for  the 
service  :  he  had  to  follow,  but  would  take  no  cigars.  Angelo 
made  his  daughter  fetch  bread  and  cigars,  and  put  a  handful 
in  his  pocket,  upon  which,  after  two  hours  of  inactivity  at 
the  foot  of  the  little  chapel,  where  Angelo  waited  for  the 
coming  of  Vittoria's  messenger,  the  innkeeper  was  glad  to 


ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS.  231 

close  his  fist.  About  noon  Lorenzo  came,  and  at  once  acted 
a  play  of  eyes  for  Angelo  to  perceive  his  distrust  of  the  man 
and  a  multitude  of  bad  things  about  him :  he  was  reluctant, 
notwithstanding  Angelo's  ready  nod,  to  bring  out  a  letter; 
and  frowned  again,  for  emphasis  to  the  expressive  comedy. 
The  letter  said  : — 

"  I  have  fallen  upon  English  friends.  They  lend  me 
money.  Fly  to  Lugano  by  the  help  of  these  notes  :  I  inclose 
them,  and  will  not  ask  pardon  for  it.  The  Valtellina  is 
dangerous ;  the  Stelvio  we  know  to  be  watched.  Retrace 
your  way,  and  then  try  the  Engadine.  I  should  stop  on  a 
breaking  bridge  if  I  thought  my  companion,  my  Carlo's 
cousin,  was  near  capture.  I  am  well  taken  care  of :  one  of 
my  dearest  friends,  a  captain  in  the  English  army,  bears  me 
company  across.  I  have  a  maid  from  one  of  the  villages,  a 
willing  gii'l.  We  ride  up  to  the  mountains ;  to-morrow  we 
cross  the  pass ;  there  is  a  glacier.  Val  di  Non  sounds 
Italian,  but  I  am  going  into  the  enemy's  land.  You  see  I 
am  well  guarded.  My  immediate  anxiety  concerns  you ; 
for  what  will  our  Carlo  ask  of  me  ?  Lose  not  one  moment. 
Away,  and  do  not  detain  Lorenzo.  He  has  orders  to  meet 
us  up  high  in  the  mountain  this  evening.  He  is  the  best  of 
servants :  but  I  always  meet  the  best  everywhere — that  is, 
in  Italy.  Leaving  it,  I  grieve.  No  news  from  Milan, 
except  of  great  confusion  there.  I  judge  by  the  quiet  of  my 
sleep  that  we  have  come  to  no  harm  there. 

"  Your  faithfullest 

"  VlTTORIA." 

Lorenzo  and  the  innkeeper  had  arrived  at  an  altercation 
before  Angelo  finished  reading.  Angelo  checked  it,  and  told 
Lorenzo  to  make  speed  :  he  sent  no  message. 

"  My  humanity,"  Angelo  then  addressed  his  craven  asso- 
ciate, "  counsels  me  that  it's  better  to  drag  you  some  distance 
on  than  to  kill  you.  You're  a  man  of  intelligence,  and  you 
know  why  I  have  to  consider  the  matter.  I  give  you  guide's 
pay  up  to  the  glacier,  and  ten  florins  buon'mano.  Would 
you  rather  earn  it  with  the  blood  of  a  countryman  ?  I  can't 
let  that  tongue  of  yours  be  on  the  high  road  of  running 
Tedcschi :  yuu  know  it." 

"  Illustrious  signore,  obedience  oils  necessity,"  quoth  the 
innkeeper.     "  If  we  had  but  a  few  more  of  my  cigars '" 


232  VITTOKIA. 

"  Step  on,"  said  Angelo  sternly. 

Tliey  walked  till  dark  and  tliey  were  in  keen  air.  A  hut 
full  of  recent  grass-cuttings,  on  the  border  of  a  sloping 
wood,  sheltered  them.  The  innkeeper  moaned  for  food  at 
night  and  in  the  morning,  and  Angelo  tossed  him  pieces  of 
bread.  Beyond  the  wood  they  came  upon  bare  crag  and 
commenced  a  sharper  ascent,  reached  the  height,  and  roused 
an  eagle.  The  great  bird  went  up  with  a  sharp  yelp,  hang- 
infir  over  them  with  knotted  claws.  Its  shadow  stretclied 
across  sweeps  of  fresh  snow.  The  innkeeper  sent  a  mocking 
yelp  after  the  eagle. 

"  Up  here,  one  forgets  one  is  a  father — what's  more,  a 
husband,"  he  said,  striking  a  finger  on  the  side  of  his  nose. 

"And  a  cur,  a  traitor,  carrion,"  said  Angelo. 

"  Ah,  signore,  one  might  know  you  were  a  noble.  You 
can't  understand  our  troubles,  who  carry  a  house  on  our 
heads,  and  have  to  fill  mouths  agape." 

"Speak  when  you  have  better  to  say,"  Angelo  replied. 

"Padrone,  one  would  really  like  to  have  yoar  good 
opinion ;  and  I'm  lean  as  a  wolf  for  a  morsel  of  flesh.  I 
could  part  with  my  buon'mano  for  a  sight  of  red  meat — oh  ! 
red  meat  dripping." 

"  If,"  cried  Angelo,  bringing  his  eyebrows  down  black  on 
the  man, — "  if  I  knew  that  you  had  ever  in  your  life 
betrayed  one  of  us — look  below ;  there  you  should  lie  to  be 
pecked  and  gnawed  at." 

"  Ah,  Jacopo  Cruchi,  what  an  end  for  you  when  you  are 
full  of  good  meanings !"  the  innkeeper  moaned.  "  I  see 
your  ribs,  my  poor  soul !" 

Angelo  quitted  his  side.  The  tremendous  excitement  of 
the  Alpine  solitudes  was  like  a  stringent  wine  to  his  sur- 
charged spirit.  He  was  one  to  whom  life  and  death  had 
become  as  the  yes  and  no  of  ordinary  men  :  not  more  than  a 
turning  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  It  surprised  him  that 
this  fellow,  knowing  his  own  cowardice  and  his  conscience, 
should  consent  to  live,  and  care  to  eat  to  live. 

When  he  returned  to  his  companion,  he  found  the  fellow 
drinking  from  the  flask  of  an  Austrian  soldier.  Another 
whitecoat  was  lying  near.  They  pressed  Angelo  to  drink, 
and  began  to  play  lubberly  jn-anks.  One  clapped  hands, 
while  another  rammed  the  flask  at  the  reluctant  mouth,  till 
Angelo  tripped  him  and  made  him  a  subject  for  derision; 


ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS.  233 

•wlierenpon  they  were  all  Gfood  friends.  Musket  on  slioulder, 
the  soldiers  descended,  blowing  at  their  finger-nails  and 
puffing  at  their  tobacco— ZaM^e?*  kiiiserlicher  (rank  Imperial) 
as  with  a  sad  enforcement  of  resignation  they  had,  while 
lighting,  characterized  the  universally  detested  Government 
issue  of  the  leaf. 

"  They  are  after  ^er,"  said  Jacopo,  and  he  shot  out  his 
thiimb  and  twisted  an  eyelid.  His  looks  became  insolent, 
and  he  added :  "  I  let  them  go  on ;  but  now,  for  my  part,  I 
must  tell  you,  my  worthy  gentleman,  I've  had  enough  of  it. 
You  go  your  way,  I  go  mine.  Pay  me,  and  we  part.  With 
the  utmost  reverence,  I  quit  you.  Climbing  mountains  at 
my  time  of  life  is  out  of  all  reason.  If  you  want  companions, 
I'll  signal  to  that  pair  of  Tedeschi  ;  they're  within  hail. 
Would  you  like  it  ?     Say  the  word,  if  you  would — hey  !" 

Angelo  smiled  at  the  visible  effect  of  the  liquor. 

"  Barto  Rizzo  would  be  the  man  to  take  you  in  hand,"  he 
remai'ked. 

The  innkeeper  flung  his  head  back  to  ejaculate,  and  mur- 
mured, "  Barto  Rizzo  !  defend  me  from  him !  Why,  he 
levies  contribution  upon  us  in  the  Yaltellina  for  the  good  of 
Milan ;  and  if  we  don't  pay,  we're  all  of  us  down  in  a  black 
book.  Disobey,  and  it's  worse  than  swearing  you  won't  pay 
taxes  to  the  legitimate — perdition  to  it ! — Government.  Do 
you  know  Barto  Rizzo,  padrone  ?  You  don't  know  him,  I 
hope  ?     I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  know  such  a  fellow." 

"  I  am  his  favourite  pupil,"  said  Angelo. 

"  I'd  have  sworn  it,"  groaned  the  innkeeper,  and  cursed 
the  day  and  hour  when  Angelo  crossed  his  threshold.  That 
done,  he  begged  permission  to  be  allowed  to  return,  crying 
with  tears  of  entreaty  for  mercy :  "  Barto  Rizzo's  pupils  arc 
always  out  upon  bloody  businesses  !"  Angelo  told  him  that 
he  had  now  an  opportunity  of  earning  the  approval  of  Barto 
Rizzo,  and  then  said,  "  On,"  and  they  went  in  the  track  of 
the  two  whitecoats ;  the  innkeeper  murmuring  all  the  while 
that  he  wanted  the  approval  of  Barto  Rizzo  as  little  as  his 
enmity  ;  he  wanted  neither  frost  nor  fire.  The  glacier  being 
traversed,  they  skirted  a  young  stream,  and  arrived  at  an 
inn,  where  they  found  the  soldiers  regaling.  Jacopo  was 
informed  by  them  that  the  lady  whom  they  were  pursuing 
had  not  passed.  They  jjuslied  their  wine  for  Angelo  to 
drink :  he  declined,  saying  that  he  had  sworn  not  to  drink 


234  VITTORIA. 

before  he  had  shot  the  chamois  with  the  white  cross  on  his 
back. 

"  Come :  we're  two  to  one,"  they  said,  "  and  drink  you 
shall  this  time !" 

"  Two  to  two,"  returned  Angelo :  "  here  is  my  Jacopo,  and 
if  he  doesn't  count  for  one,  I  won't  call  him  father-in-law, 
and  the  fellow  living  at  Cles  may  have  his  daughter  without 
fighting  for  her." 

"  Right  so,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  "  and  you  don't  speak 
bad  German  already." 

"  Haven't  I  served  in  the  ranks  ?"  said  Angelo,  giving  a 
bugle- call  of  the  reveillee  of  the  cavalry. 

He  got  on  with  them  so  well  that  they  related  the  object 
of  their  expedition,  which  was,  to  catch  a  runaway  young 
rebel  lady  and  hold  her  fast  down  at  Cles  for  the  great  cap- 
tain— iinser  tilcMiger  Hauptmann. 

"  Hadn't  she  a  servant,  a  sort  of  rascal  ?"  Angelo 
inquired. 

"  Right  so ;  she  had :  but  the  doe's  the  buck  in  this 
ohase." 

Angelo  tossed  them  cigars.  The  valley  was  like  a  tumbled 
mountain,  thick  with  crags  and  eminences,  through  which 
the  river  worked  strenuously,  sinuous  in  foam,  hurrying  at 
the  turns.  Angelo  watched  all  the  ways  from  a  distant 
height  till  set  of  sun.  He  saw  another  couple  of  soldiers 
meet  those  two  at  the  inn,  and  then  one  pair  went  up  toward 
the  vale-head.  It  seemed  as  if  Vittoria  had  disconcerted 
them  by  having  chosen  another  route. 

"  Padrone,"  said  Jacopo  to  him  abruptly,  when  they 
descended  to  find  a  resting-place,  "  you  are,  I  speak  humbly, 
so  like  the  devil  that  I  must  enter  into  a  stipulation  with 
you,  before  I  continue  in  your  company,  and  take  the  worst 
at  once.  This  is  going  to  be  the  second  night  of  my  sleep- 
ing away  from  my  wife  :  I  merely  mention  it.  I  pinch  her, 
and  she  beats  me,  and  we  are  equal.  But  if  you  think  of 
making  me  fight,  I  tell  you  I  won't.  If  there  was  a  furnace 
behind  me,  I  should  fall  into  it  rather  than  run  against  a 
bayonet.  I've  heard  say  that  the  nerves  are  in  the  front 
part  of  us,  and  that's  where  I  feel  the  shock.  Now  we're 
on  a  plain  footing.  Say  that  I'm  not  to  fight.  I'll  be  your 
servant  till  you  release  me,  but  say  I'm  not  to  fight ;  padi-one, 
say  that." 


ACKOSS  THE  MOUNTAINS.  235 

"I  can't  t5ay  tliat:  I'll  say  I  won't  make  you  fight," 
Angelo  pacified  him  by  replying.  From  this  moment  Jacopo 
followed  him  less  like  a  graceless  dog  pi;lled  by  his  chain. 
In  fact,  with  the  sense  of  prospective  security,  he  tastetl  a 
luxurious  amazement  in  being  moved  about  by  a  superior 
will,  wafted  from  his  inn,  and  paid  for  witnessing  strange 
incidents.  Angelo  took  care  that  he  was  fed  well  at  the 
place  where  they  slept,  but  himself  ate  nothing.  Eai"ly 
after  dawn  they  mounted  the  heights  above  the  road.  It 
was  about  noon  that  Angelo  discerned  a  party  coming  from 
the  pass  on  foot,  consisting  of  two  women  and  three  men. 
They  rested  an  hour  at  the  village  where  he  had  slept  over- 
night ;  the  muskets  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  rear  of 
tliom.  "When  they  started  afresh,  one  of  the  muskets  was 
discharged,  and  while  the  echoes  were  rolling  away,  a  reply 
to  it  sounded  in  the  front.  Angelo,  from  his  post  of  obser- 
vation, could  see  that  Yittoria  and  hei-  party  were  marching 
between  two  guards,  and  that  she  herself  must  have  per- 
ceived both  the  front  and  rearward  couple.  Yet  she  and 
her  party  held  on  their  course  at  an  even  pace.  For  a  time 
he  kept  them  clearly  in  view  ;  but  it  was  tough  work  along 
the  slopes  of  crag  :  presently  Jacopo  slipped  and  went  down. 
"Ah,  padrone,"  he  said  :  "  I'm  done  for;  leave  me." 

"  Not  though  I  should  have  to  haul  you  on  my  back," 
replied  Angelo.  "  If  I  do  leave  you,  I  must  cut  out  your 
tongue." 

"  Rather  than  that,  I'd  go  on  a  sprained  ankle,"  said 
Jacopo,  and  he  strove  manfully  to  conquer  pain  ;  limping 
and  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  my  little  village  !  Oh,  my  little  inn ! 
When  can  a  man  say  that  he  has  finished  running  about  the 
world  !     The  moment  he  sits,  in  comes  the  devil." 

Angelo  was  obliged  to  lead  him  down  to  the  open  way, 
upon  which  they  made  slow  progress. 

"  The  noble  gentleman  might  let  me  return — he  might 
trust  me  now,"  Jacopo  whimpered. 

"  The  devil  trusts  nobody,"  said  Angelo. 

"  Ah,  padrone !  thei'o's  a  crucifix.  Let  me  kneel  by 
lliat." 

Angelo  indulged  him.  Jacopo  knelt  by  the  wayside  and 
prayed  for  an  easy  ankle  and  a  snoring  pillow  and  no 
wakcmers.  A\'U'.r  this  he  was  refreshed.  The  sun  sank; 
the  darkness  spread  around  ;   the  air  grow  icy.     "  Does  the 


236  VITTORIA. 

Blessed  Yirgin  ever  consider  wliat  patriots  have  to  endure  ?" 
Jacopo  muttered  to  himself,  and  aroused  a  rare  laugh  from 
Angelo,  who  seized  him  under  the  arm,  half-lifting  him  on. 
At  the  inn  where  they  rested,  he  bathed  and  bandaged  the 
foot. 

"  I  can't  help  feeling  a  kindness  to  you  for  it,"  said 
Jacopo. 

"  T  can't  afford  to  leave  you  behind,"  Angelo  accounted 
for  his  attention. 

"  Padrone,  we've  been  understanding  one  another  all  along 
by  our  thumbs.  It's  that  old  inn  of  mine — the  taxes  !  we 
have  to  sell  our  souls  to  pay  the  taxes.  There's  the  tongue 
of  the  thing.     I  wouldn't  betray  you  ;  I  wouldn't." 

"  I'll  try  you,"  said  Angelo,  and  put  him  to  proof  next 
day,  when  the  soldiers  stopped  them  as  they  were  driving 
in  a  cart,  and  Jacopo  swore  to  them  that  Angelo  was  his 
intended  son-in-law. 

There  was  evidently  an  unusual  activity  among  the  gen- 
darmerie of  the  lower  valley,  the  Val  di  Non  ;  for  Jacopo 
had  to  repeat  his  fable  more  than  once,  and  Angelo  thought 
it  prudent  not  to  make  inquiries  about  travellers.  In  this 
valley  they  were  again  in  summer  heat.  Summer  splendours 
robed  the  broken  gi-ound.  The  Val  di  Non  lies  toward  the 
sun,  banked  by  the  Val  di  Sole,  like  the  Southern  lizard 
under  a  stone.  Chestnut  forest  and  shoulder  over  shoulder 
of  vineyard,  and  meadows  of  marvellous  emerald,  with  here 
and  there  central  partly- wooded  crags,  peaked  with  castle- 
ruins,  and  ancestral  castles  that  are  still  warm  homes,  and 
villages  dropped  among  them,  and  a  river  bounding  and 
rushing  eagerly  through  the  rich  enclosure,  form  the  scene, 
beneath  that  Italian  sun  which  turns  everything  to  gold. 
There  is  a  fair  breadth  to  the  vale :  it  enjoys  a  great  oval 
of  sky :  the  falls  of  shade  are  dispersed,  dot  the  hollow 
lange,  and  are  not  at  noontide  a  broad  curtain  passing  over 
fi'om  right  to  left.  The  sun  reigns  and  also  governs  in  the 
Val  di  Non. 

"  The  grape  has  his  full  benefit  here,  padrone,"  said 
Jacopo. 

But  the  place  was  too  populous,  and  too  much  subjected 
to  the  general  eye,  to  please  Angelo.  At  Cles  they  were 
compelled  to  bear  an  inspection,  and  a  little  comedy  occurred. 
Jacopo,   after  exhibiting  Angolo  as  his  son-in-law,  seeing 


ACKOSS  THE  MOUNTAINS.  237 

doubts  on  the  soldiers'  faces,  mentioned  the  name  of  the 
German  suitor  for  his  daughter's  hand — the  carpenter, 
Johann  Spellmann,  to  -whose  workshop  he  requested  to  be 
taken.  Johann,  being  one  of  the  odd  Germans  in  the  valley, 
Avas  well  known  :  he  was  carving  wood  astride  a  stool,  and 
stopped  his  whistling  to  listen  to  the  soldiers,  who  took  the 
first  word  out  of  Jacopo's  mouth,  and  were  convinced,  by 
Johann's  droop  of  the  chin,  that  the  tale  had  some  truth  in 
it ;  and  more  when  Johann  yelled  at  the  Valtelline  innkeeper 
to  know  why,  then,  he  had  come  to  him,  if  he  was  pre- 
pared to  play  him  false.  One  of  the  soldiers  said  bluntly 
that,  as  Angelo's  appearance  answered  to  the  portrait  of  a 
man  for  whom  they  were  on  the  lookout,  they  would,  if  their 
countryman  liked,  take  him  and  give  him  a  dose  of  marching 
and  imprisonment. 

"  Ach  !  that  won't  make  my  little  Rosetta  love  me  better," 
cried  Johann,  who  commenced  taking  up  a  string  of  re- 
proaches against  women,  and  pitched  his  carving-blade  and 
tools  abroad  in  the  wood-dust. 

"  Well,  now,  it's  queer  you  don't  want  to  fight  this  lad," 
said  Jacopo  ;  "  he's  come  to  square  it  with  you  that  way,  if 
you  think  best." 

Johann  spared  a  remark  between  his  vehement  impreca- 
tions against  the  sex  to  say  that  he  was  ready  to  fight ;  but 
his  idea  of  vengeance  was  directed  upon  the  abstract  con- 
ception of  a  faithless  womankind.  Angelo,  by  reason  of  his 
detestation  of  Germans,  temporarily  threw  himself  into  the 
part  he  was  playing  to  the  extent  of  despising  him.  Johann 
admitted  to  Jacopo  that  intervals  of  six  months'  duration  in 
a  courtship  were  wide  jumps  for  Love  to  take. 

"  Yes  ;  amor!  amor !"  he  exclaimed  with  extreme  dejection  ; 
"  I  could  wait.  Well !  since  you've  brought  the  young  man, 
we'll  have  it  out." 

He  stepped  before  Angelo  with  bare  fists.  Jacopo  had  to 
interpose  The  soldiers  backed  Joluum,  who  now  said  to 
Angelo,  "  Since  you've  come  for  it,  we'll  have  it  out." 

Jacopo  had  gi-eat  difiiculty  in  bringing  him  to  see  that  it 
was  a  matter  to  talk  over.  Johann  swore  he  would  not  talk 
about  it  and  was  ready  to  fight  a  dozen  Italians,  man  up 
man  down. 

"  Hare-fisted  ?"  screamed  Jacopo. 

"Hey!  the  old  way!     Give  him  knuckles,  and  break  his 


238  VITTORIA. 

back,  my  boy!"  cried  the  soldiers;  "none  of  their  steel  this 
side  of  the  mountain." 

Johann  waited  for  Angelo  to  lift  his  hands ;  and  to  insti- 
gate his  reluctant  adversary,  thumped  his  chest ;  but  Angelo 
did  not  move.     The  soldiers  roared. 

"  If  she  has  you,  she  shall  have  a  dolly,"  said  Johann,  now 
heated  with  the  prospect  ef  presenting  that  sort  of  husband 
to  his  little  Rosetta.  At  this  juncture  Jacopo  threw  himself 
between  them. 

"It  shall  be  a  real  fight,"  he  said;  "my  daughter  can't 
make  up  her  mind,  and  she  shall  have  the  best  man.  Leave 
me  to  arrange  it  all  fairly  ;  and  you  come  here  in  a  couple  of 
hours,  my  children,"  he  addressed  the  soldiers,  who  un- 
willingly quitted  the  scene  where  there  was  a  certainty  of 
fun,  on  the  assurance  of  there  being  a  livelier  scene  to 
come. 

When  they  had  turned  their  heels  on  the  shop,  Jacopo 
made  a  face  at  Johann;  Johann  swung  round  upon  Angelo, 
and  met  a  smile.     Then  followed  explanations. 

"  What's  that  you  say  ?  She's  true — she's  true  ?"  ex- 
claimed the  astounded  lover. 

"  True  enough,  but  a  girl  at  an  inn  wants  hotter  courting," 
said  Jacopo.  "His  Excellency  here  is  after  his  own  sweet- 
heart." 

Johann  huzzaed,  hugged  at  Angelo's  hands,  and  gave  a 
lusty  filial  tap  to  Jacopo  on  the  shoulder.  Bread  and  grapes 
and  Tyi'olese  wine  were  placed  for  them,  and  Johann's  mother 
soon  produced  a  salad,  eggs,  and  fowl ;  and  then  and  there 
declared  her  willingness  to  receive  Rosetta  into  the  house- 
hold, "  if  she  would  swear  at  the  outset  never  to  have 
heimweh  (home-longing)  ;  as  people — men  and  women,  both 
— always  did  when  they  took  a  new  home  across  a  moun- 
tain." 

"  She  won't — will  she  ?"  Johann  inquired  with  a  dubious 
sparkle. 

"  Not  she,"  said  Jacopo. 

After  the  meal  he  drew  Johann  aside.  They  returned  to 
Angelo,  and  Johann  beckoned  him  to  leave  the  house  by  a 
back  way,  leading  up  a  slope  of  garden  into  high  vine-poles. 
He  said  that  he  had  seen  a  party  pass  out  of  Cles  from  the 
inn  early,  in  a  light  car,  on  for  Meran.  The  gendarmei'ie 
were  busy  on  the  road :  a  mounted  officer  had  dashed  up  to 


ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS-  239 

the  inn  an  hoar  later,  and  had  followed  them  :  it  was  tho 
talk  of  the  village. 

"  Padrone,  you  dismiss  me  now,"  said  Jacopo. 

"I  pay  you,  but  don't  dismiss  you,"  said  Angelo,  and 
handed  him  a  bank-note. 

"  I  stick  to  you,  padrone,  till  you  do  dismiss  me,"  Jacopo 
sighed. 

Johann  offered  to  conduct  them  as  far  as  the  Monte 
Pallade  pass,  and  they  started,  avoiding  the  high  i-oad, 
which  was  enviably  broad  and  solid.  Within  view  of  a  vil- 
lage under  climbing  woods,  they  discerned  an  open  car, 
flanked^  by  bayonets,  returning  to  Cles.  Angelo  rushed 
ahead  of  them  down  the  declivity,  and  stood  full  in  the 
road  to  meet  the  procession.  A  girl  sat  in  the  car,  who 
hung  her  head,  weeping ;  Lorenzo  was  beside  her ;  an 
Englishman  on  foot  gave  employment  to  a  pair  of  soldiers  to 
get  him  along.  As  they  came  near  at  marching  pace, 
Lorenzo  yawned  and  raised  his  hand  to  his  cheek,  keeping 
the  thumb  pointed  behind  him.  Including  the  giid,  thei-e 
were  four  prisoners  :  Vittoria  was  absent.  The  Englishman, 
as  he  was  being  propelled  forward,  addressed  Angelo  in 
French,  asking  him  whether  he  could  bear  to  see  an  un- 
offending foreigner  treated  with  wanton  violation  of  law. 
The  soldiers  bello.ved  at  their  captive,  and  Angelo  sent  a 
stupid  shrug  after  him.  They  rounded  a  bend  of  the  road, 
Angelo  tightened  the  buckle  at  his  waist. 

"  Now  I  trust  you,"  he  said  to  Jacopo.  "  Follow  the 
length  of  five  miles  over  the  pass  :  if  you  don't  see  me  then, 
you  have  your  liberty,  tongue  and  all." 

With  that  he  doubled  his  arras  and  set  forth  at  a  steady 
run,  leaving  his  companions  to  speculate  on  his  powers  of 
endurance.  They  did  so  complacently  enough,  until  Jacopo 
backed  liim  for  a  distance  and  Johann  betted  against  him, 
when  behold  them  at  iutex'vals  taking  a  sharp  trot  to  keep 
him  ia  view. 


240  VITTORIA. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE     DUEL     IN     THE     PASS. 

Meanwhile  Captain  Weisspriess  had  not  been  idle. 
Standing  at  a  blnnt  angle  of  the  ways  converging  upon 
Vittoria's  presumable  destination,  he  had  roused  up  the 
gendarmerie  along  the  routes  to  Meran  by  Trent  on  one  side, 
and  Bormio  on  the  other  ;  and  he  soon  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  she  had  rejected  the  valley  of  the  Adige  for  the  Valtel- 
line,  whence  he  supposed  that  she  would  be  tempted  either 
to  cross  the  Stelvio  or  one  of  the  passes  into  Southernmost 
Tyrol.  He  was  led  to  think  that  she  would  certainly  bear 
upon  Switzerland,  by  a  course  of  reasoning  connected  with 
Angelo  Guidascarpi,  who,  fleeing  under  the  cross  of  blood, 
might  be  calculated  on  to  push  for  the  mountains  of  the 
Republic  ;  and  he  might — judging  by  the  hazards — conduct 
the  lady  thither,  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  crime  and  love  in 
security.  The  captain,  when  he  had  discovered  Angelo's 
crest  and  name  on  the  betraying  handkerchief,  had  no 
doubts  concerning  the  nature  of  their  intimacy,  and  he  was 
spurred  by  a  new  and  thrice  eager  desire  to  capture  the 
couple — the  criminal  for  the  purposes  of  justice,  and  the 
other  because  he  had  pledged  his  notable  reputation  in  the 
chase  of  her.  The  conscience  of  this  man's  vanity  was 
extremely  active.  He  had  engaged  to  conquer  the  stubborn 
girl,  and  he  thought  it  possible  that  he  might  take  a  mistress 
from  the  patriot  ranks,  with  a  loud  ha !  ha  !  at  revolutionists, 
and  some  triumph  over  his  comrades.  And  besides  he  was 
the  favourite  of  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein,  who  yet 
refused  to  bring  her  estates  to  him  ;  she  dared  to  trifle  ;  she 
also  w^s  a  woman  who  required  rude  lessons.  Weisspriess, 
a  poor  soldier  bearing  the  heritage  of  lusty  appetites,  had 
an  eye  on  his  fortune,  and  served  neither  Mars  alone  nor 
Venus.  Countess  Anna  was  to  be  among  that  company 
assembled  at  the  Castle  of  Sonnenberg  in  Meran  ;  and  if, 
while  introducing  Vittoria  there  v/ith  a  discreet  and  exciting 
reserve,  he  at  the  same  time  handed  over  the  assassin  of 
Count  Paul,  a  tine  harvest  of  praise  a,nd  various  pleasant 
forms   of   female    passion    were    to    be    looked    for — a  rich 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS.  241 

vista  of  a  montli's  intrigue ;  at  tlie  end  of  it  possibly  his 
wealthy  lady,  thoroughly  tamed,  for  a  wife,  and  redoubled 
triumph  over  his  comrades.  Without  these  successes,  what 
availed  the  fame  of  the  keenest  swordsman  in  the  Austrian 
army  ? — The  feast  as  well  as  the  plumes  of  vanity  offered 
rewards  for  the  able  exercise  of  his  wits. 

He   remained   at  the   sub  Alpine   inn    until   his   servant 
Wilhehn  (for  whom  he  had  despatched  the  duchess's  chas- 
seur, then  in  attendance  on  Vittoria)   arrived  from  Milan, 
bringing  his  uniform.     The  chasseur  was  directed  on  the 
Bormio  line,  with  orders  that  he  should  caiise  the  arrest  of 
Vittoria  only  in  the  case  of   her  being  on  the  extreme  limit 
of  the  Swiss  frontier.     Keeping  his  communications  alert, 
Weisspriess  bore  that  way  to  meet  him.     Fortune  smiled  on 
his  strategy.     Jacob  Baumwalder  Feckelwitz — full  of  wine, 
and  discha]'ging  huri'ahs  along  the  road — met  him  on  the 
bridge  over  the  roaring  Oglio,  just  out  of  Edolo,  and  gave 
him  news  of  the  fugitives.     "  Both  of  them  were  at  the  big 
hotel  in  Bormio,"  said  Jacob  ;  "  and  I  set  up  a  report  that 
the  Stelvio  was  watched ;  and  so  it  is."     He  added  that  he 
thought  they  were  going  to  sep;irate  ;  he  had  heard   some- 
thing to  that  effect ;  he  believed  that  the  young  lady  was 
bent  upon  crossing  one  of  the  passes  to  Meran.     Last  night 
it  had  devolved  on  him  to  kiss  away  the  tears  of  the  young 
lady's   maid,    a   Valtelline  peasant-girl,   who   deplored  the 
idea  of  an  eipedition  over  the  mountains,  and  had,  with  the 
usual  cat-like  tendencies  of  these  Italian  minxes,  torn  his 
cheek  in  return  for  his   assiduities.      Jacob    displayed  the 
pi-etty  scratch  obtained  in  the  Herr  Captain's  service,  and 
got  his  money  for  having  sighted  Vittoria  and  seen  double. 
Weisspriess    decided  in    his    mind    that    Angelo   had   now 
separated  from  her  (or  rather,  she  from  him)   for  safety. 
He  thought  it  very  probable  that  she  would  likewise  fly  to 
Switzerland.      Yet,  knowing  that  there  was  the  attraction 
of  many  fi-iends  for  her  at  Meran,    he  conceived  that  ho 
should   act  more   prudently   by   throwing   himself  on  that 
line,  and  he  sped  Jacob  BaumAvalder  along  the  Valtelline  by 
Val  Viola,   up   to   Ponte    in    the  Engadine,  with  orders  to 
Bcize  her  if  he  could  see  her,  and  have  her  conveyed  to  Cles, 
in  Tyrol.     Vittoria  being  only  by  the  gentlest  interpreta- 
tion of  her  conduct  not   under  interdict,   an  unsci'upulous 
imperial  officer  might  iu  those  military  times   veuiui-e  to 

R 


242  VITTORIA. 

employ  the  gendarmerie  for  his  own  purposes,  if  he  conld 
but  give  a  plausible  colour  of  devotion  to  the  Imperial 
interests. 

The  chasseur  sped  lamentingly  back,  and  Weisspriess, 
taking  a  guide  from  the  skirting  hamlet  above  Edolo,  quitted 
the  Val  Camonica,  climbed  the  Tonale,  and  reached  Ver- 
miglio  in  the  branch  valley  of  that  name,  scientifically 
observing  the  features  of  the  country  as  he  went.  At 
Vei-miglio  he  encountered  a  brother  officer  of  one  of  his 
former  regiments,  a  fat  major  on  a  tour  of  inspection,  who 
happened  to  be  a  week  behind  news  of  the  army,  and 
detained  him  on  the  pretext  of  helping  him  on  his  car — a 
mockery  that  drove  Weisspriess  to  the  perpetual  reply, 
"  You  are  my  superior  officer,"  which  reduced  the  major  to 
ask  him  whether  he  had  been  degraded  a  step.  As  usual, 
Weisspriess  was  pushed  to  assert  his  haughtiness,  backed 
by  the  shadow  of  his  sword.  "  I  am  a  man  with  a  family," 
said  the  major,  modestly.  "Then  I  shall  call  you  my 
superior  officer  while  they  allow  you  to  remain  so,"  returned 
Weisspriess,  who  scorned  a  married  soldier. 

"  I  aspired  to  the  Staff  once  myself,"  said  the  major. 
"Unfortunately,  I  grew  in  girth — the  wrong  way  for 
ambition.  I  digest,  I  assimilate  with  a  fatal  ease.  Stout 
men  are  doomed  to  the  obscurer  paths.  You  may  quote 
Napoleon  as  a  contrary  instance.  I  maintain  positively 
that  his  day  was  over,  his  sun  was  eclipsed,  when  his 
valet  had  to  loosen  the  buckles  of  his  waistcoat  and  breech. 
Now,  what  do  you  say  ?" 

"  1  say,"  Weisspriess  replied,  "  that  if  there's  a  further 
depreciation  of  the  paper  currency,  we  shall  none  of  us 
have  much  chance  of  digesting  or  assimilating  either — if  1 
know  at  all  what  those  processes  mean." 

"  Our  good  Lombard  cow  is  not  half  squeezed  enough," 
observed  the  major,  confidentially  in  tone.  "  When  she 
makes  a  noise — quick !  the  pail  at  her  udders  and  work 
away ;  that's  my  advice.  What's  the  verse  ? — our  Zwit- 
terwitz's,  I  mean  ;  the  Viennese  poet : — 

'Her  milk  is  good — the  Lombard  cow  ; 
Let  her  be  noisy  when  she  pleases  : 
But  if  she  Icicks  the  pail,  I  vow, 
We'll  make  her  used  to  sharper  squeezes  : 
We'll  write  her  mighty  deeds  in  cheeses: 
(That  is,  if  she  yields  milk  enov).'  " 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS.  243 

**  Capital !  capital !"  the  major  applauded  his  quotation, 
and  went  on  to  speak  of  '  that  Zwitterwitz'  as  having  served 
in  a  border  regiment,  after  creating  certain  Court  scandal, 
and  of  his  carrying  ol£  a  Wallach  lady  from  her  lord  and 
selling  her  to  a  Turk,  and  turning  Turk  himself  and  keeping 
a  hax-em.  Five  years  later  he  reappeared  in  Vienna  with 
a  volume  of  what  he  called  'Black  Eagle  Poems,'  and 
regained  possession  of  his  barony.  "  So  far,  so  good,"  said 
the  major ;  "  but  when  he  applied  for  his  old  commission  in 
the  army — that  was  rather  too  cool." 

Weisspriess  muttered  intelligibly,  "  I've  heard  the  remark, 
that  you  can't  listen  to  a  man  five  minutes  without  getting 
something  out  of  him." 

"  I  don't  know ;  it  may  be,"  said  the  major,  imagining 
that  Weisspriess  demanded  some  stronger  flavours  of  gossip 
in  his  talk.  "  There's  no  stir  in  these  valleys.  They  arrested, 
somewhere  close  on  Trent  yesterday  afternoon,  a  fellow  call- 
ing himself  Beppo,  the  servant  of  an  Italian  woman — a 
dancer,  I  fancy.  They're  on  the  look-out  for  her  too,  I'm 
told  ;  though  what  sort  of  capers  she  can  be  cutting  in  Tyrol, 
1  can't  even  guess." 

The  major's  car  was  journeying  leisurely  toward  Cles. 
"Whip  that  bi'ute  !"  Weisspriess  sang  out  to  the  driver,  and 
begging  the  major's  pardon,  requested  to  know  whither  he 
was  bound.  The  major  informed  him  that  he  hoped  to  sup 
in  Trent.  "Good  heaven!  not  at  this  pace,"  Weisspriess 
shouted.  But  the  pace  was  barely  accelerated,  and  he  con- 
cealed his  reasons  for  invoking  speed.  They  were  late  iu 
arriving  at  Trent,  where  Weisspriess  cast  eye  on  the  im- 
prisoned wretch,  who  declared  piteously  that  he  was  the 
trusted  and  innocent  servant  of  the  signorina  Vittoria,  and 
had  been  visiting  all  the  castles  of  Meran  in  search  of  her. 
The  captain's  man  Wilhelm  had  been  the  one  to  pounce  on 
poor  Beppo  while  the  latter  was  wandering  disconsolately. 
Leaving  him  to  howl,  Weisspriess  procured  the  loan  of  a 
horse  from  a  colonel  of  cavalry  at  the  Buon  Consiglio 
barracks,  and  mounted  an  hour  before  dawn,  followed  by 
Willielm.  He  reached  Cles  in  time  to  learn  that  Vittoria 
and  her  party  had  passed  through  it  a  little  in  advance  of 
him.  Breakfasting  there,  he  enjoyed  the  first  truly  calm 
cij^ar  of  many  days.  Gendarmes  whom  he  had  met  near  Ilia 
place  came  iu  at  his  heels.     They  said  that  the  party  would 

Eii 


244  VITTORIA. 

positively  "be  arrested,  or  not  allowed  to  cross  the  Monte 
Pallade.  The  passes  to  Meran  and  Botzen,  and  the  road  to 
Trent,  were  strictly  guarded.  Weisspriess  hurried  them 
forward  with  particular  orders  that  they  should  take  into 
custody  the  whole  of  the  party,  excepting  the  lady ;  her,  if 
arrested  with  the  others,  they  were  to  release  :  her  maid  and 
the  three  men  were  to  be  marched  back  to  Cles,  and  there 
kept  fast. 

The  game  was  now  his  own :  he  surveyed  its  pretty  in- 
tricate moves  as  on  a  map.  The  chai'acter  of  Herr  Johannes 
he  entirely  discarded :  an  Imperial  officer  in  his  uniform, 
sword  in  belt,  could  scarcely  continue  that  meek  performance. 
"  But  I  may  admire  rausic,  and  entreat  her  to  give  me  a 
particular  note,  if  she  has  it,"  said  the  captain,  hanging  in 
contemplation  over  a  coming  scene,  like  a  quivering  hawk 
about  to  close  its  wdngs.  His  heart  beat  thick ;  which 
astonished  him :  hitherto  it  had  never  made  that  sort  of 
movement. 

From  Cles  he  despatched  a  letter  to  the  fair  chatelaine  at 
Meran,  telling  her  that  by  dainty  and  skilful  management 
of  the  paces,  he  was  bringing  on  the  intractable  heroine  of 
the  Fifteenth,  and  w^as  to  be  expected  in  about  two  or  three 
days.  The  letter  was  entrusted  to  Wilhelm,  who  took  the 
borrowed  horse  back  to  Trent. 

Weisspriess  was  on  the  muletrack  a  mile  above  the  last 
village  ascending  to  the  pass,  when  he  observed  the  party 
of  prisoners,  and  climbed  up  into  covert.  As  they  went 
by  he  discerned  but  one  person  in  female  garments  ;  the 
necessity  to  crouch  for  obscurity  prevented  him  from  examin- 
ing them  separately.  He  counted  three  men  and  beheld 
one  of  them  between  gendarmes.  "  That  must  be  my  villain," 
he  said. 

It  was  clear  that  Vittoria  had  chosen  to  go  forward  alone. 
The  captain  praised  her  spirit,  and  now  pushed  ahead  with 
hunter's  strides.  He  passed  an  inn,  closed  and  tenantless  : 
behind  him  lay  the  Val  di  Non  ;  in  front  the  darker  valley 
of  the  Adige :  where  was  the  prey  ?  A  storm  of  rage  set  in 
upon  him.  with  the  fear  that  he  had  been  befooled.  He  lit  a 
cigar,  to  assume  ease  of  aspect,  whatever  the  circumstances 
might  be,  and  gain  some  inward  serenity  by  the  outer  i-oOec- 
tion  of  it — not  altogether  without  success.  "  My  lady  must 
be  a  doughty  walker,"  he  thought ;  "  at  this  rate  she  will  be 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS.  245 

in  the  TJltenthal  before  sunset."  A  wooded  heiq'lit  rancfcd 
on  his  left  as  he  descended  rapidly.  Coming  to  a  roll  of 
gi-ass  sown  with  grey  rock,  he  climbed  it,  and  mounting  one 
of  the  boulders,  beheld  at  a  distance  of  half-a-dozen  stone- 
throws  downward,  the  figure  of  a  woman  holding  her  hand 
cup-shape  to  a  wayside  fall  of  water.  The  path  by  which 
she  was  going  rounded  the  height  he  stood  on.  He  sprang 
over  the  rocks,  catching  up  his  clattering  steel  scabbard ; 
and  plunging  through  tinted  leafage  and  green  underwood, 
steadied  his  heels  on  a  sloping  bank,  and  came  down  on  the 
path  with  stones  and  earth  find  brambles,  in  time  to  appear 
as  a  seated  pedestrian  when  Vittoria  turned  the  bend  of  the 
mountain  way. 

Gracefully  withdrawing  the  cigar  from  his  mouth,  and 
touching  his  breast  with  tui-ned-in  fingers,  he  accosted  her 
with  a  comical  operatic  effort  at  her  high  notes :  "  Italia  !" 

She  gathei'ed  her  arms  on  her  bosom  and  looked  swiftly 
round  :   then  at  the  apparition  of  her  enemy. 

It  is  but  an  ironical  form  of  respect  that  you  offer  to  the 
prey  you  have  been  hotly  chasing  and  have  caught.  Weiss- 
priess  conceived  that  he  had  good  reasons  for  addressing  her 
in  the  tone  best  suited  to  his  character :  he  spoke  with  a 
ridiculous  mincing  suavity : 

"  My  pretty  sweet !  are  you  not  tired  ?  We  have  not  seen 
one  another  for  days  !  Can  you  have  forgotten  the  enthu- 
siastic Herr  Johannes  ?  You  have  been  in  pleasant  company, 
no  doubt;  but  I  have  been  all — all  alone.  Think  of  that ! 
What  an  exceedingly  fortunate  chance  this  is  !  I  was  smoking 
dolefully,  and  imagining  anything  but  such  a  rapture. — No, 
no,  mademoiselle,  be  mannerly."  The  captain  blocked  her 
passage.  "  You  must  not  leave  me  while  I  am  speaking.  A 
good  governess  would  have  taught  you  that  in  the  nursery. 
I  am  afi'aid  you  had  an  inattentive  governess,  who  did  not 
impress  upon  you  the  duty  of  recognizing  fi-iends  wlien  you 
meet  them.  Ha  !  you  were  educated  in  England,  I  have 
hoard.  Shake  hands.  It  is  our  custom — I  think  a  better 
one — to  kiss  on  the  right  cheek  and  the  left,  but  we  will 
shako  hands." 

"In  God's  name,  sir,  let  me  go  on,"  Vittoria  could  just 
gather  voice  to  utter. 

"  J3ut,"  cried  the  delighted  captain,  "you  address  me  in 
the  tones  of  a  basso  prof  undo !     It  is  absurd.     Do  you  sup- 


246  VITTOKIA. 

pose  that  I  am  to  be  deceived  by  your  artifice  ? — rogue  tbat 
you  ai-e !  Don't  I  know  you  are  a  woman  ?  a  sweet,  an 
ecstatic,  a  darling  little  woman  !" 

He  laughed.  She  shivered  to  hear  the  solitary  echoes. 
There  was  sunlight  on  the  farthest  Adige  walls,  but  damp 
shade  already  filled  the  East-facing  hollows. 

"  I  beg  you  very  earnestly,  to  let  me  go  on,"  said  Vittoria. 

"  With  equal  earnestness,  I  beg  you  to  let  me  accompany 
you,"  he  replied.  "  I  mean  no  offence,  mademoiselle ;  but 
I  have  sworn  that  I  and  no  one  but  I  shall  conduct  you  to 
the  Castle  of  Sonnenberg,  where  you  will  meet  the  Lenken- 
stein  ladies,  with  whom  1  have  the  honour  to  be  acquainted. 
Tou  see,  you  have  nothing  to  fear  if  you  play  no  foolish 
pranks,  like  a  kicking  filly  in  the  pasture." 

"  If  it  is  your  pleasiu-e,"  she  said  gvnYelj  ;  but  he  obtruded 
the  bow  of  an  arm.  She  drew  back.  Her  first  blank  despair 
at  sight  of  the  trap  she  had  fallen  into,  was  clearing  before 
her  natiu^al  high  courage. 

"  My  little  lady  !  my  precious  prima  donna  !  do  you  refuse 
the  most  trifling  aid  from  me  ?     It's  because  I'm  a  German." 

"  There  are  many  noble  gentlemen  who  are  Germans,"  said 
Vittoria. 

"  It's  because  I'm  a  German ;  I  know  it  is.  But,  don't  you 
see,  Germany  invades  Italy,  and  keeps  hold  of  her  ?  Provi- 
dence decrees  it  so — ask  the  priests  !  Tou  are  a  delicious 
Italian  damsel,  and  you  will  take  the  ai'm  of  a  German." 

Vittoria  raised  her  face.  "  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  your 
prisoner  ?" 

"  You  did  not  look  braver  at  La  Scala  ;"  the  captain  bowed 
to  her. 

"Ah,  I  forgot,"  said  she  ;  "  you  saw  me  there.  If,  signore, 
you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  conduct  me  to  the  nearest  inn, 
I  will  sing  to  you." 

"  It  is  precisely  my  desire,  signorina.  You  are  not  married 
to  that  man  Guidascarpi,  I  presume  ?  N^o,  no :  you  are 
merely  his  .  .  .  friend.  JMay  I  have  the  felicity  of  hearing 
you  call  me  your  friend.  Why,  you  tremble  !  are  you  afraid 
of  me  ?" 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  you  talk  too  much  to  please  me,"  said 
Vittoria. 

The  captain  praised  her  frankness,  and  he  liked  it.  The 
trembling   of  her  frame  still  fascinated  his  eyes,  but  her 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS.  247 

conrag'e  and  the  absence  of  all  womanly  play  and  cowering 
about  her  manner  impressed  him  seriously.  He  stood  look- 
ing at  her,  biting  his  moustache,  and  trying  to  provoke  her 
to  smile. 

"  Conduct  you  to  the  neai*est  inn  ;  yes,"  he  said,  as  if 
musing.  "  To  the  nearest  inn,  where  you  will  sing  to  me  ; 
sing  to  me.  It  is  not  an  objectionable  scheme.  The  inns 
will  not  be  choice :  but  the  society  will  be  exquisite.  Say 
first,  I  am  your  sworn  cavalier  ?" 

"  It  does  not  become  me  to  say  that,"  she  replied,  feigning 
a  demure  sincerity,  on  the  verge  of  her  patience. 

"  You  allow  me  to  say  it  ?" 

She  gave  him  a  look  of  fire  and  passed  him ;  whereat,  fol- 
lowing her,  he  clapped  hands,  and  affected  to  regard  the 
movement  as  part  of  an  operatic  scena.  "  It  is  now  time  to 
draw  your  dagger,"  he  said.     "  You  have  one,  I'm  certain." 

"  Anything  but  touch  me  !"  cried  Vittoria,  turning  on  him. 
'*  I  know  that  I  am  safe.  You  shall  teaze  me,  if  it  amuses 
you." 

"Am  I  not,  now,  the  object  of  your  detestation  ?" 

"  You  are  near  being  so." 

"  You  see  !     You  put  on  no  disguise ;  why  should  I  ?'* 

This  remark  struck  her  with  force. 

"  My  temper  is  foolish,"  she  said  softly.  "  I  have  always 
been  used  to  kindness," 

He  vowed  that  she  had  no  comprehension  of  kindness ; 
otherwise  would  she  continue  defiant  of  him  ?  She  denied 
that  she  was  defiant :  upon  which  he  accused  the  hand  in 
her  bosom  of  clutching  a  dagger.  She  cast  the  dagger  at 
his  feet.  It  was  nobly  done,  and  he  was  not  insensible  to  the 
courage  and  inspiration  of  the  act ;  for  it  checked  a  little 
example  of  a  trial  of  sti-ength  that  he  had  thought  of  exhi- 
biting to  an  armed  damsel. 

"  Shall  I  pick  it  up  for  you  ?"  he  said. 

"You  will  oblige  me,"  was  her  answer;  but  she  could  not 
control  a  convulsion  of  her  undcrlip  that  her  defensive 
instinct  told  her  was  best  hidden. 

"  Of  course,  you  know  you  are  safe,"  he  repeated  her  pre- 
vious words,  while  examining  the  silver  handle  of  the  dagger. 
"Safe?  certainly!  Here  is  C.  A.  to  V.  .  .  .  A.  neatly 
engraved  :  a  gift ;  so  that  the  young  gentleman  may  be  sure 
the  young  lady  will  defend  herself  from  lions  and  tigers  and 


248  VITTORIA. 

wild  boars,  if  ever  she  goes  through  forests  and  over  rtionn* 
tain  passes.  I  will  not  obtrude  my  curiosity,  but  who  is 
V.  .  .A.?" 

The  dagger  was  Carlo's  gift  to  her;  the  engraver,  by 
singular  misadventure,  had  put  a  capital  letter  for  the  con- 
cluding letter  of  her  name  instead  of  little  a;  she  remembered 
the  blush  on  Carlo's  face  when  she  had  drawn  his  attention 
to  the  error,  and  her  own  blush  when  she  had  guessed  its 
meaning. 

"It  spells  my  name,"  she  said. 

"  Your  assumed  name  of  Vittoria.     And  who  is  C.  A.  ?** 

*'  Those  are  the  initials  of  Count  Carlo  Ammiani." 

*'  Another  lover  ?" 

"  He  is  my  sole  lover.  He  is  my  betrothed.  Oh,  good 
God!"  she  threw  her  eyes  up  to  heaven;  "how  long  am  I 
to  endure  the  torture  of  this  man  in  my  pathway  ?  Go,  sir, 
or  let  me  go  on.  You  are  intolerable.  It's  the  spirit  of  a 
tiger.     I  have  no  fear  of  you." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Weisspriess,  "  I  asked  the  question 
because  I  am  under  an  obligation  to  run  Count  Carlo 
Ammiani  through  the  body,  and  felt  at  once  that  I  should 
regret  the  necessity.  As  to  your  not  fearing  me,  really,  far 
from  wishing  to  hurt  you " 

Vittoria  had  caught  sight  of  a  white  face  framed  in  the 
autumnal  forest  above  her  head.  So  keen  was  the  glad 
expression  of  her  face,  that  Weisspriess  looked  up. 

"  Come,  Angelo,  come  to  me,"  she  said  confidently 

Weisspriess  plucked  his  sword  out,  and  called  to  him 
imperiously  to  descend. 

Beckoned  downward  by  white  hand  and  flashing  blade, 
Angelo  steadied  his  feefc  and  hands  among  drooping  chestnut 
boughs,  and  bounded  to  Vittoria's  side. 

"  Now  march  on,"  Weisspriess  waved  his  sword ;  "  you 
are  my  prisoners." 

"You,"  I'etorted  Angelo;  "I  know  you ;  you  are  a  man 
marked  out  for  one  of  us.  I  bid  you  turn  back,  if  you  care 
for  your  body's  safety." 

"Angelo  Guidascarpi,  I  also  know  you.  Assassin!  you 
double  murderer  1  Defy  me,  and  I  slay  you  in  the  sight  of 
your  paramour." 

"  Captain  Weisspriess,  what  you  have  spoken  merits  death. 
I  implore  of  my  Maker  that  I  may  not  have  to  kill  you." 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS. 


249 


"  Fool !  yon  are  tinarmed." 

Angelo  took  his  stilet  in  Lis  fist. 

"  I  have  warned  you,  Captain  Weisspriess.  Here  T  stand, 
I  dare  you  to  advance." 

"  You  pronounce  my  name  abominably,"  said  the  captain^ 
dropping  his  sword's  point.  "  If  you  think  of  resisting  me, 
let  us  have  no  women  looking  on."  He  waved  his  left  hand 
at  Vittoria. 

Angelo  urged  her  to  go.  "  Step  on  for  our  Carlo's  sake." 
But  it  was  asking  too  much  of  her. 

"  Can  you  fight  this  man  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  can  fight  him  and  kill  him." 

*'  I  will  not  step  on,"  she  said.     "  Must  you  fight  him  ?" 

"  There  is  no  choice." 

Yittoria  walked  to  a  distance  at  once. 

Angelo  directed  the  captain's  eyes  to  where,  lower  in  the 
pass,  there  was  a  level  plot  of  meadow. 

Weisspriess  nodded.  "  The  odds  are  in  my  favour,  so  you 
shall  choose  the  ground." 

All  three  went  silently  to  the  meadow. 

It  was  a  circle  of  green  on  a  projecting  shoulder  of  the 
mountain,  bounded  by  woods  that  sank  toward  the  now 
shadowy  South-flowing  Adige  vale,  whose  Western  heights 
were  gathering  red  colour  above  a  strongly-marked  brown 
.  line.  Vittoria  stood  at  the  border  of  the  wood,  leaving  the 
two  men  to  their  work.     She  knew  when  speech  was  useless. 

Captain  Weisspriess  paced  behind  Angelo  until  the  latter 
stopped  short,  saying,  "  Here  !" 

"Wherever  you  please,"  Weisspriess  responded.  "The 
ground  is  of  more  importance  to  you  than  to  mc." 

They  faced  mutually ;  one  felt  the  point  of  his  stilet,  the 
other  the  temper  of  his  sword. 

"  Killing  you,  Angelo  Guidascarpi,  is  the  killing  of  a  dog. 
But  there  arc  such  things  as  mad  dogs.  This  is  not  a  duel. 
It  is  a  righteous  execution,  since  you  force  me  to  it :  I  shall 
deserve  your  thanks  for  saving  you  from  the  hangman.  I 
think  you  have  heard  that  I  can  use  my  weapon.  There's 
death  on  this  point  for  you.  Make  your  peace  with  your 
Maker." 

Weisspriess  spoke  sternly.  He  delayed  the  lifting  of  hia 
Bword  that  the  bloody  soul  might  pray. 


250  VITTORIA. 

Angelo  said,  "  Tou  are  a  good  soldier :  you  are  a  bad 
priest.     Come  on." 

A  nod  of  magnanimous  resignation  to  the  duties  of  "his 
office  "was  the  captain's  signal  of  readiness.  He  knew  exactlj^ 
the  method  of  fighting  which  Angelo  must  adopt,  and  ho 
saw  that  his  adversary  was  supple,  and  sinewy,  and  verj 
keen  of  eye.  But,  what  can  well  compensate  for  even  ono 
additional  inch  of  steel  ?  A  superior  weapon  wielded  by  a 
trained  wrist  in  perfect  coolness  means  victory,  by  every 
reasonable  reckoning.  In  the  present  instance,  it  meant 
nothing  other  than  an  execution,  as  he  had  said.  His  con- 
templation of  his  own  actual  share  in  the  performance 
was  nevertheless  unpleasant ;  and  it  was  but  half  willingly 
that  he  straightened  out  his  sword  and  then  doubled  his 
arm.  He  lessened  the  odds  in  his  favour  considerably  by  his 
too  accurate  estimation  of  them.  He  was  also  a  little 
unmanned  by  the  thought  that  a  woman  was  to  see  him 
using  his  advantage ;  but  she  stood  firm  in  her  distant 
corner,  refusing  to  be  waved  out  of  sight.  Weisspriess  had 
again  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  not  a  duel,  but  the 
enforced  execution  of  a  criminal  who  would  not  surrender, 
and  who  was  in  his  way.  Fronting  a  creature  that  would 
vainly  assail  him,  and  temporarily  escape  impalement  by 
bounding  and  springing,  dodging  and  backing,  now  here  now 
there,  like  a  dangling  bob-cheriy,  his  military  gorge  rose 
with  a  sickness  of  disgust.  He  had  to  remember  as  vividly 
as  he  could  realize  it,  that  this  man's  life  was  forfeited,  and 
that  the  slaughter  of  him  Avas  a  worthy  service  to  Countess 
Anna ;  also,  that  there  were  present  reasons  for  desiring  to 
be  quit  of  him.  He  gave  Angelo  two  thrusts,  and  bled  him. 
The  skill  which  warded  off  the  more  vicious  one  aroused  his 
admiration. 

"  Pardon  my  blundering,"  he  said  ;  "  I  have  never  engaged 
a  saltimbanque  before." 

They  recommenced.  Weisspriess  began  to  weigh  the 
sagacity  of  his  opponent's  choice  of  open  ground,  where  he 
could  lengthen  the  discourse  of  steel  by  retreating  and 
retreating,  and  swinging  easily  to  right  or  to  left.  In  the 
narrow  track  the  sword  would  have  transfixed  him  after  a 
single  feint.  He  was  amused.  Much  of  the  cat  was  in  his 
combative  nature.  An  idea  of  disabling  or  dismembering 
Angelo,  and  forwarding  him  to  !Meran,  caused  him  to  trifle 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS.  251 

further  with  the  edge  of  the  blade.  Angelo  took  a  cut,  and 
turned  it  on  his  arm  ;  free  of  the  deadly  point,  he  rushed  in 
and  delivered  a  stab ;  but  Weisspriess  saved  his  breast. 
Quick,  they  resumed  their  former  positions. 

"  I  am  really  so  unused  to  this  game  !  "  said  Weisspriess, 
apologetically. 

He  was  pale :  his  unsteady  breathing,  and  a  deflection  of 
his  dripping  sword-wrist,  belied  his  coolness.  Angelo 
plunged  full  on  him,  dropped,  and  again  reached  his  right 
arm  ;  they  hung,  getting  blood  for  blood,  with  blazing  inter- 
penetrating eyes  ; — a  ghastly  work  of  dark  hands  at  half 
lock  thrusting,  and  savage  eyes  reading  the  fiery  pages  of 
the  book  of  hell.  At  last  the  Austrian  got  loose  from  the 
lock  and  hurled  him  off. 

"  That  bout  was  hotter,"  he  remarked ;  and  kept  his 
sword-point  out  on  the  whole  length  of  the  arm :  he  would 
have  scorned  another  for  so  miserable  a  form  either  of 
attack  or  defence. 

Vittoria  beheld  Angelo  circling  round  the  point,  which 
met  him  everywhere ;  like  the  minute  hand  of  a  clock  about 
to  sound  his  hour,  she  thought. 

He  let  fall  both  his  arms,  as  if  beaten,  which  brought  on 
the  attack :  by  sheer  evasion  he  got  away  from  the  sword's 
lunge,  and  essayed  a  second  trial  of  the  bite  of  steel  at  close 
quarters  ;  but  the  Austrian  backed  and  kept  him  to  the 
point,  darting  short  alluring  thrusts,  thinking  to  tempt  him 
on,  or  to  wind  him,  and  then  to  have  him.  Weisspriess  was 
chilled  by  a  more  curious  revulsion  from  this  sort  of  engage- 
ment than  he  at  first  experienced.  He  had  become  nervously 
incapable  of  those  proper  niceties  of  sword-play  which,  with- 
out any  indecent  hacking  and  maiming,  should  have  stretched 
Angelo,  neatly  slain,  on  the  mat  of  green,  before  he  had  a 
chance.  Even  now  the  sight  of  the  man  was  distressing  to 
an  honourable  duellist.  Angelo  was  scored  with  blood- 
marks.  Feeling  that  he  dared  not  offer  another  chance  to 
a  fclloAv  so  desperately  close-dealing,  Weisspriess  thrust 
fiercely,  but  delayed  his  fatal  stroke.  Angelo  stooped  and 
pulled  up  a  handful  of  grass  and  soft  earth  in  his  left  hand. 

"  We  have  been  longer  about  it  than  I  expected,"  said 
Weisspriess. 

Angelo  tightened  his  fingers  about  the  stringy  grass-tuft ; 
he  stood  like  a  dreamer,  leaning  over  to  the  sword;  suddenly 


252  VITTORIA, 

he  sprang  on  it,  received  tlie  point  right  in  his  side,  sprang 
on  it  again,  and  seized  it  in  his  hand,  and  tossed  it  up,  and 
threw  it  square  out  in  time  to  burst  within  guard  and  strike 
his  stilet  below  the  Austrian's  collar-bone.  The  blade  took 
a  glut  of  blood,  as  when  the  wolf  tears  quick  at  dripping 
flesh.  It  was  at  a  moment  when  Weisspriess  Avas  courteously 
bantering  him  with  the  question  whether  he  was  ready, 
meaning  that  the  affirmative  should  open  the  gates  of  death 
to  liim. 

The  stilet  struck  thrice.  Wiesspriess  tottered,  and  hung 
his  jaw  like  a  man  at  a  spectre :  amazement  was  on  his 
features. 

"  Remember  Broncini  and  young  Branciani !" 

Angelo  spoke  no  other  words  throughout  the  combat. 

Weisspriess  threw  himself  forward  on  a  feeble  lunge  of 
his  sword,  and  let  the  point  sink  in  the  ground,  as  a  palsied 
cripple  supports  his  frame,  swayed,  and  called  to  Angelo  to 
come  on,  and  try  another  stroke,  anothei' — one  more  !  He 
fell  in  a  lump  :  his  look  of  amazement  was  surmounted  by  a 
strong  frown. 

His  enemy  was  hanging  above  him  panting  out  of  wide 
nostrils,  like  a  hunter's  horse  above  the  long-tongued  quarry, 
when  Vittoria  came  to  them. 

She  reached  her  strength  to  the  wounded  man  to  turn  his 
face  to  heaven. 

He  moaned,  "  Finish  me  ;"  and,  as  he  lay  with  his  back  to 
earth,  "  Good  evening  to  the  old  army !" 

A  vision  of  leaping  tumbrils,  and  long  marching  columns 
about  to  deploy,  passed  before  his  eyelids  :  he  thoaght  he 
had  fallen  on  the  battle-field,  and  heard  a  drum  beat  furiously 
in  the  back  of  his  head ;  and  on  streamed  the  cavalry, 
wonderfully  caught  away  to  such  a  distance  that  the  figures 
were  all  diminutive,  and  the  regimental  colours  swam  in 
smoke,  and  the  enemy  danced  a  plume  here  and  there  out  of 
the  sea,  while  his  mother  and  a  forgotten  Viennese  girl 
gazed  at  him  with  exactly  the  same  unfamiliar  countenance, 
and  refused  to  hear  that  they  were  unintelligible  in  the  roar- 
ing of  guns  and  floods  and  hurrahs,  and  the  thumping  of  the 
tremendous  big  drum  behind  his  head — "  somewhere  in  the 
middle  of  the  earth  :"  he  tried  to  explain  the  locality  of  that 
terrible  di-umming  noise  to  them,  and  Vittoria  conceived  him 
to  be  delirous ;  but  he  knew  that  he  was  sensible  :  he  knew 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  PASS.  253 

her  and  Angelo  and  the  mountain-pass,  and  tliat  lie  had  a 
cigar-case  in  liis  pocket  worked  in  embroidery  of  crimson, 
blue,  and  gold,  by  the  hands  of  Countess  Anna.  He  said 
distinctly  that  he  desired  the  cigar-case  to  be  delivered  to 
Countess  Anna  at  the  Castle  of  Sonnenberg,  and  rejoiced  on 
being  assured  that  his  wish  was  comprehended  and  should 
be  fulfilled ;  but  the  marvel  was,  that  his  mother  should  still 
refuse  to  give  him  wine,  and  suppose  him  to  be  a  boy :  and 
when  he  was  so  thirsty  and  dry-lipped  that  though  Mina 
was  bending  over  him,  just  fresh  frem  Mariazell,  he  had  not 
the  heart  to  kiss  her  or  lift  an  arm  to  her  ! — His  horse  was 
off  with  him — whither  ? — He  was  going  down  with  a  com- 
pany of  infantry  in  the  Gulf  of  Venice  :  cards  were  in  his 
hand,  visible,  though  he  could  not  feel  them,  and  as  the 
vessel  settled  for  the  black  plunge,  the  cards  flushed  all 
liouours,  and  his  mother  shook  her  head  at  him  :  he  sank, 
and  heard  Mina  sighing  all  the  length  of  the  water  to  the 
bottom,  which  grated  and  gave  him  two  horrid  shocks  of 
pain  :  and  he  cried  for  a  doctor,  and  admitted  that  his  horse 
had  managed  to  throw  him  ;  but  wine  was  the  cure,  brandy 
was  the  cure,  or  water,  water  ! 

Water  was  sprinkled  on  his  forehead  and  put  to  his 
lips. 

He  thanked  Yittoria  by  name,  and  imagined  himself  that 
General,  serving  under  old  Wiirmser,  of  whom  the  tale  is 
told  that  being  shot  and  lying  grievously  wounded  on  the 
harsh  Rivoli  ground,  he  obtained  the  help  of  a  French  officer 
in  as  bad  case  as  himself,  to  moisten  his  black  tongue  and 
write  a  shoi-t  testamentary  document  Avith  his  blood,  and  for 
a  way  of  returning  thanks  to  the  Frenchman,  he  put  down, 
among  others,  the  name  of  his  fiiendly  enemy's  widow; 
whereupon  both  resigned  their  hc>arts  to  death ;  but  the 
Austrian  survived  to  find  the  sad  widow  and  espouse  her. 

His  mutterings  were  full  of  gratitude,  showing  a  vividly 
transient  impression  to  what  was  about  him,  that  vanished 
in  an  arrow-headed  flight  through  clouds  into  lands  of 
memory.  It  pained  him,  he  said,  that  he  could  not  offer  her 
marriage ;  but  he  requested  that  wlien  his  chin  Avas  shaved 
his  moustache  sliould  be  brushed  up  out  of  the  way  of  tlie 
clippers,  for  he  and  all  his  family  were  conspicuous  for  the 
immense  amount  of  life  which  they  had  in  them,  and  his 
father  had  lain  six- and- thirty  hours  bleeding  on  the  field  of 


254  VITTORIA. 

Wagi^am,  and  had  yet  survived  to  beget  a  race  as  hearty  as 
himself: — "  Old  Austria  !  thou  grand  old  Austria!" 

The  smile  was  proud,  though  faint,  which  accompanied 
the  apostrophe,  addressed  either  to  his  country  or  to  his 
father's  peisonification  of  it;  it  was  inexpressibly  pathetic  to 
Vittoria,  who  understood  his  "  Oesterreich,"  and  saw  the  weak 
and  helpless  bleeding  man,  with  his  eyeballs  working  under 
the  lids,  and  the  palms  of  his  hands  stretched  out  open — 
weak  as  a  corpse,  but  conquering  death. 

The  arrival  of  Jacopo  and  Johann  furnished  help  to  carry 
him  onward  to  the  nearest  place  of  shelter.  Angelo  would 
not  quit  her  side  until  he  had  given  money  and  directions  to 
both  the  trembling  fellows,  together  with  his  name,  that 
they  might  declare  the  author  of  the  deed  at  once  if  ques- 
tioned. He  then  bowed  to  Vittoria  slightly  and  fled.  They 
did  not  speak. 

The  last  sunbeams  burned  full  crimson  on  the  heights  of 
the  Adige  mountains  as  Vittoria  followed  the  two  pale  men 
who  bore  the  wounded  officer  between  them  at  a  slow  pace 
for  the  nearest  village  in  the  descent  of  the  pass. 

Angelo  watched  them  out  of  sight.  The  far-off  red  rocks 
spun  round  his  ej^e-balls  ;  the  meadow  was  a  whirling  thread 
of  green ;  the  brown  earth  heaved  up  to  him.  He  felt  that 
he  was  diving,  and  had  the  thought  that  there  was  but 
water  enough  to  moisten  his  red  hands  when  his  senses  left 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  NEW  ORDEAL. 


The  old  city  of  Meran  faces  Southward  to  the  yellow  hills 
of  Italy,  across  a  broad  vale,  between  two  mountain-walls 
and  torrent-waters.  With  one  hand  it  takes  the  bounding 
green  Passeyr,  and  with  the  other  the  brown-rolling  Adige, 
and  plunges  them  together  in  roaring  foam  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Western  wall.  It  stands  on  the  spur  of  a  loAver  central 
eminence  crowned  by  a  grey  castle,  and  the  sun  has  it  from 
every  aspect.  The  shape  of  a  swan  in  water  may  describe 
its  position,  for  the  Vintschgau  and  the  stony  Passeyrthal 


A  NEW  ORDEAL.  255 

make  a  strong  curve  on  two  sides  as  they  descend  npon  it 
witli  their  rivers,  and  the  bosom  of  the  city  projects,  while 
the  head  appears  bending  gracefully  backward.  Many  castles 
are  in  view  of  it ;  the  loud  and  tameless  Passeyr  girdles  it 
with  an  emerald  cincture ;  there  is  a  sea  of  arched  vineyard 
foliage  at  his  feet, 

Vittoria  reached  the  Castle  of  Sonnenberg  about  noon,  and 
found  empty  courts  and  open  doors.  She  sat  in  the  hall  like 
a  supplicant,  disregarded  by  the  German  domestics,  who  be- 
held a  travel-stained  humble-faced  young  Italian  woman, 
and  supposed  that  their  duty  was  done  in  permitting  her  to 
rest ;  but  the  duchess's  maid  Aennchen  happening  to  come 
by,  questioned  her  in  moderately  intelligible  Italian,  and 
hearing  her  name  gave  a  cry,  and  said  that  all  the  company 
were  out  hunting,  shooting,  and  riding,  in  the  vale  below  or 
the  mountain  above.  "  Ah,  dearest  lady,  what  a  fright  we 
have  all  been  in  about  you !  Signora  Piaveni  has  not  slept 
a  wink,  and  the  English  gentleman  has  made  great  excur- 
sions every  day  to  find  you.  This  morning  the  soldier 
Wilhelm  arrived  with  news  that  his  master  was  bringing 
you  on." 

Vittoria  heard  that  Laura  and  her  sister  and  the  duchess 
Lad  gone  down  to  Meran.  Countess  Lena  von  Lenkenstein 
was  riding  to  see  her  betrothed  shoot  on  a  neighbouring 
estate.  Countess  Anna  had  disappeared  early,  none  knew 
where.  Both  these  ladies,  and  their  sister-in-law,  were  in 
mourning  for  the  terrible  death  of  their  brother,  Count 
Paul.  Aennchen  repeated  what  she  knew  of  the  tale  con- 
cerning him. 

The  desire  to  see  Laura  first,  and  be  embraced  and  coun- 
selled by  her,  and  lie  awhile  in  her  arms  to  get  a  breath  of 
home,  made  Vittoria  refuse  to  go  up  to  her  chamber,  and 
notwithstanding  Aennchen's  persuasions,  she  left  the  castle, 
and  went  out  and  sat  in  the  shaded  cart-track.  On  the 
winding  ascent  she  saw  a  lady  in  a  black  riding  habit,  lead- 
ing her  horse  and  talking  to  a  soldiei",  who  seemed  to  be 
receiving  orders  from  her,  and  presently  saluted  and  turned 
his  steps  downward.  The  lady  came  on,  and  passed  her 
without  a  glance.  After  entering  the  court-yard,  where  she 
left  her  horse,  she  reajipeared,  and  stood  hesitating,  but 
came  up  to  Vittoria  and  said  bluntly,  in  Italian;  — 


256  VITTORIA. 

"  Are  yoTi  tte  Signorina  Campa,  or  Belloni,  who  is  ex- 
pected here  ?" 

The  Austrian  character  and  colouring  of  her  features  told 
Vittoria  that  this  must  be  the  Countess  Anna  or  her  sister. 

"  I  think  I  have  been  expected,"  she  replied. 

"  You  come  alone  ?" 

**  I  am  alone." 

"  I  am  Countess  Anna  von  Lenkenstein ;  one  of  the  guests 
of  the  castle." 

"  My  message  is  to  the  Countess  Anna." 

"  You  have  a  message  ?" 

Vittoria  lifted  the  embroidered  cigar-case.  Countess 
Anna  snatched  it  from  her  hand. 

"What  does  this  mean?  Is  it  insolence?  Have  the 
kindness,  if  you  please,  not  to  address  me  in  enigmas.  Do 
you  " — Anna  was  deadly  pale  as  she  turned  the  cigar-case 
from  side  to  side — "  do  you  imagine  that  I  smoke,  par 
hasard  ?"  She  tried  to  laugh  off  her  intemperate  manner  of 
speech;  the  laugh  broke  at  sight  of  a  blood-mark  on  one 
corner  of  the  case ;  she  started  and  said  earnestly,  "  I  beg 
you  to  let  me  hear  what  the  meaning  of  this  may  be  ?" 

"  He  lies  in  the  Ultenthal,  wounded  ;  and  his  wish  was 
that  I  should  deliver  it  to  you."  Vittoria  spoke  as  gently 
as  the  harsh  tidings  would  allow. 

"  Wounded  ?  My  God  !  my  God  !"  Anna  cried  in  her  own 
language.  "  Wounded  ? — in  the  breast,  then  !  He  carried 
it  in  his  breast.     Wounded  by  what  ?  by  what  ?" 

"  I  can  tell  you  no  more." 

"  Wounded  by  whom  ?" 

"  It  Avas  an  honourable  duel." 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  tell  me  he  has  been  assassinated  ?** 

"  It  was  an  honourable  duel." 

"  None  could  match  him  with  the  sword." 

"  His  enemy  had  nothing  but  a  dagger." 

*'  Who  was  his  enemy  ?" 

*'  It  is  no  secret,  but  I  must  leave  him  to  say.'* 

**  You  were  a  witness  of  the  fight  ?" 

"  I  saw  it  all." 

*'  The  man  was  one  of  your  party !" 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  Vittoria,  "  lose  no  time  with  me,  Countess 
Anna    go  to  him  at  once,  for  though  he  lived  when  I  left  him, 


A  NEW  OKDEAL.  257 

he  was  bleeding* ;  I  cannot  say  that  he  was  not  dying,  and  he 
has  not  a  friend  near." 

Anna  murmured  like  one  overborne  by  calamity.  "  My 
brother  struck  down  one  day — he  the  next !"  She  covered 
her  face  a  moment,  and  unclosed  it  to  explain  that  she 
wept  for  her  brother,  who  had  been  murdered,  stabbed  in 
Bologna. 

"  Was  it  Count  Ammiani  who  did  this  ?"  she  asked 
passionately. 

Vittoria  shook  her  head ;  she  was  divining  a  dreadful 
thing  in  relation  to  the  death  of  Count  Paul. 

"  It  was  not  ?"  said  Anna.  "  They  had  a  misunderstand- 
ing, I  know.  But  you  tell  me  the  men  fought  with  a  dagger. 
It  could  not  be  Count  Ammiani.  The  dagger  is  an  assassin's 
weapon,  and  there  are  men  of  honour  in  Italy  still." 

She  called  to  a  servant  in  the  castle-yard,  and  sent  him 
down  with  orders  to  stop  the  soldier  Wilhelm. 

"  We  heard  this  morning  that  you  were  coming,  and  we 
thought  it  curious,"  she  observed  ;  and  called  ag'ain  for  her 
horse  to  be  saddled.  "  How  far  is  this  place  where  he  is 
lying  ?  I  have  no  knowledge  of  the  Ultenthal.  Has  he  a 
doctor  attending  him  ?  When  was  he  wounded  ?  It  is  but 
common  humanity  to  see  that  he  is  attended  by  an  efficient 
doctor.     My  nerves  are  unstrung  by  the  recent  bloAV  to  our 

family;  that  is  why Oh,  my  father!  my  holy  father!" 

she  turned  to  a  grey  priest's  head  that  was  rising  up  the 
ascent,  "  I  thank  God  for  you  !  Lena  is  away  riding ;  she 
weeps  constantly  when  she  is  within  four  walls.  Come  in 
and  give  me  tears,  if  you  can  ;  I  am  half  mad  for  the  want 
of  them.     Tears  first ;  teach  me  patience  after." 

The  old  priest  fanned  his  face  with  his  curled  hat,  and 
raised  one  hand  as  he  uttered  a  gentle  chiding  in  reproof  of 
curbless  human  sorrow.  Anna  said  to  Vittoria,  coldly,  "  I 
thank  you  for  your  message  :"  she  walked  into  the  castle  by 
his  side,  and  said  to  him  there  :  "  The  woman  you  saw  out- 
side has  a  guilty  conscience.  You  will  spend  your  time  more 
profitably  with  her  than  with  me.  I  am  past  all  religious 
duties  at  this  moment.  You  know,  father,  that  I  can  open 
my  heart.  Probe  this  Italian  woman  ;  search  her  through 
and  through.  I  believe  her  to  be  blood-stained  and  abomi- 
nable. She  hates  us.  She  has  swoi'n  an  oath  against  us. 
She  is  malignant." 


258  VITTORIA. 

It  was  not  long  before  Anna  issued  forth  and  rode  down 
to  the  vale.  The  priest  beckoned  to  Vittoria  from  the  gates. 
He  really  supposed  her  to  have  come  to  him  with  a  bur- 
dened spirit. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  addressed  her.  The  chapter  on  human 
error  was  opened : — "  We  are  all  of  one  family — all  of  us 
erring  children — all  of  us  bound  to  abnegate  hatred :  by  love 
alone  are  we  saved.  Behold  the  Image  of  Love — the  Virgin 
and  Child.  Alas  !  and  has  it  been  visible  to  man  these  more 
than  eighteen  hundred  years,  and  humankind  are  still  blind 
to  it  ?  Are  their  ways  the  ways  of  comfort  and  blessedness  ? 
Their  ways  are  the  ways  of  blood  ;  paths  to  eternal  misery 
among  howling  fiends.  Why  have  they  not  chosen  the 
sweet  ways  of  peace,  which  are  strewn  with  flowers,  which 
flow  with  milk  H" — The  priest  spread  his  hand  open  for  Vit- 
toria's,  which  she  gave  to  his  keeping,  and  he  enclosed  it 
softly,  smoothing  it  with  his  palms,  and  retaining  it  as  a 
worldly  oyster  between  spiritual  shells.  "  Why,  my  daughter, 
why,  but  because  we  do  not  bow  to  that  image  daily,  nightly, 
hourly,  momently !  We  do  not  worship  it  that  its  seed  may 
be  sown  in  us.  We  do  not  cling  to  it,  that  in  return  it  may 
cling  to  us." 

He  spoke  with  that  sensuous  resource  of  rich  feeling 
which  the  contemplation  of  the  Image  does  inspire.  And 
Vittoria  was  not  led  reluctantly  into  the  oratory  of  the 
castle  to  pray  with  him  ;  but  she  refused  to  confess.  There- 
ujson  followed  a  soft  discussion  that  was  as  near  being  acerb 
as  nails  are  near  velvet  paws. 

Vittoria  perceived  his  drift,  and  also  the  dear  good  heart 
of  the  old  man,  who  meant  no  harm  to  her,  and  believed  that 
he  was  making  use  of  his  professional  weapons  for  her 
ultimate  good.  The  inquisitions  and  the  kindness  went 
musically  together  ;  she  responded  to  the  kindness,  but 
rebutted  the  inquisitions ;  at  which  he  permitted  a  shade  of 
discontent  to  traverse  his  features,  and  asked  her  with 
immense  tenderness  whether  she  had  not  much  on  her  mind; 
she  expressing  melodious  gratitude  for  his  endeavours  to  give 
her  comfort.  He  could  not  forbear  directing  an  admonish- 
ment to  her  stubborn  spirit,  and  was  obliged,  for  the  sake  of 
impressiveness,  to  speak  it  harshly ;  until  he  saw  that,  with- 
out sweetness  of  manner  and  unction  of  speech,  he  left  her 
untouched;  so  he  was  driven  back  to  the  form  of  address 


A  NEW  ORDEAL.  259 

better  suited  to  his  nature  and  habits  ;  the  end  of  which  was 
that  both  were  cooinGr. 

Vittoi'ia  was  ashamed  to  tell  herself  how  much  she  liked 
him  and  his  ghostly  brethren,  Avhose  preaching  was  alwaj's 
of  peace,  while  the  world  was  full  of  lurid  hatred,  strife,  and 
division.  She  begged  the  ballled  old  man  to  keep  her  hand 
in  his.  He  talked  in  Latinized  Italian,  and  only  appeared  to 
miss  the  exact  meaning  of  her  replies  when  his  examination 
of  the  state  of  her  soul  was  resumed.  They  sat  in  the  soft 
colour  of  the  consecrated  place  like  two  who  were  shut  away 
from  earth.  Often  he  thought  that  her  tears  were  about  to 
start  and  bring  her  low  ;  for  she  sighed  heavily ;  at  the 
mere  indication  of  the  displacement  of  her  hand,  she  looked 
at  him  eagerly,  as  if  entreating  him  not  to  let  it  drop. 

"You  are  a  German,  father?'  she  said. 

*'  I  am  of  German  bii'th,  my  daughter." 

*'  That  makes  it  better.  Remain  beside  me.  The  silence 
is  sweet  music." 

The  silence  was  broken  at  intervals  by  his  murmur  of  a 
call  for  patience  !  patience  ! 

This  strange  scene  concluded  with  the  entry  of  the  duchess, 
■who  retired  partly  as  soon  as  she  saw  them.  Vittoria 
smiled  to  the  old  man,  and  quitted  his  side  :  the  duchess 
gave  her  a  hushed  welcome,  and  took  her  place.  Vittoria 
was  soon  in  Laura's  arms,  where,  after  a  storm  of  grief, 
she  related  the  events  of  the  joui-ney  following  her  flight 
from  Milan.  Laura  interrupted  her  but  once  to  exclaim, 
"Angelo  Guidascarpi !  "  Vittoria  then  heard  from  her 
briefly  that  Milan  was  quiet,  Carlo  Ammiani  in  prison.  It 
had  been  for  tidings  of  her  lover  that  she  had  hastened  over 
the  mountains  to  Meran.  She  craved  for  all  that  could  be 
told  of  him,  but  Laura  repeated,  as  in  a  stupefaction, 
"Angelo  Guidascarpi!"  She  answered  Vittoria's  question 
by  saying,  "  You  could  not  have  had  so  fatal  a  companion." 

*'  I  could  not  have  had  so  devoted  a  protector," 

*'  There  is  such  a  thing  as  an  evil  star.  We  are  all  under 
it  at  present,  to  some  degree  ;  but  he  has  been  under  it  fi-om 
his  birth.  My  Sandi-a,  my  beloved,  I  think  I  have  pardoned 
you,  if  I  ever  pardon  any  one  !  I  doubt  it;  but  it  is  certain 
that  I  love  you.  You  have  seen  Countess  Anna,  or  I  would 
have  told  you  to  rest  and  get  over  your  fatigue.  The  Len- 
kensteins    are    here — my  poor   sister   among   them.      You 

s2 


260  VITTORIA. 

must  show  yourself.  I  was  provident  enong-li  to  call  at 
your  motlier's  for  a  box  of  your  clothes  before  I  ran  out  of 
wretched  Milan." 

Further,  the  signora  stated  that  Carlo  might  have  to 
remain  in  prison.  She  made  no  attempt  to  give  dark  or 
fair  colour  to  the  misery  of  the  situation ;  telling  Vittoria 
to  lie  on  her  bed  and  sleep,  if  sleep  could  be  persuaded  to 
visit  her,  she  went  out  to  consult  with  the  duchess.  Vittoria 
lay  like  a  dead  body  on  the  bed,  counting  the  throbs  of  her 
heart.  It  helped  her  to  fall  into  a  state  of  insensibility. 
When  she  awoke,  the  room  was  dark ;  she  felt  that  some 
one  had  put  a  silken  cushion  across  her  limbs.  The  noise 
of  a  storm  traversing  the  vale  rang  through  the  castle,  and 
in  the  desolation  of  her  soul,  that  stealthy  act  of  kindness 
wrought  in  her  till  she  almost  fashioned  a  vow  upon  her 
lips  that  she  would  leave  the  world  to  toss  its  wrecks,  and 
dedicate  her  life  to  God. 

For,  O  heaven !  of  what  avail  is  human  effort  ?  She 
thought  of  the  Chief,  whose  life  was  stainless,  but  who  stood 
proscribed  because  his  aim  was  too  high  to  be  attained 
within  compass  of  a  mortal's  years.  His  error  seemed  that 
he  had  ever  aimed  at  all.  He  seemed  less  wise  than  the  old 
priest  of  the  oratory.  She  could  not  disentagle  him  from 
her  own  profound  humiliation  and  sense  of  fallen  power. 
Her  lover's  imprisonment  accused  her  of  some  monstrous 
culpability,  which  she  felt  unrepentingly,  not  as  we  feel  a 
truth,  but  as  we  submit  to  a  terrible  force  of  pressure. 

The  morning  light  made  her  realize  Carlo's  fate,  to  whom 
it  would  penetrate  through  a  hideous  barred  loophole — a 
defaced  and  dreadful  beam.  She  asked  herself  why  she  had 
fled  from  Milan.  It  must  have  been  some  cowardly  instinct 
that  had  prompted  her  to  fly.  "  Coward,  coward  !  thing  of 
vanity  !  you,  a  mere  woman  !"  she  cried  out,  and  succeeded 
in  despising  herself  sufficiently  to  think  it  possible  that  she 
had  deserved  to  forfeit  her  lover's  esteem. 

It  was  still  early  Avhen  the  duchess's  m.aid  came  to  her, 
bringing  word  that  her  mistress  would  be  glad  to  visit  her. 
From  the  duchess  Vittoria  heard  of  the  charge  against 
Angelo.  Respecting  Captain  Weisspriess,  Amalia  said  that 
she  had  perceived  his  object  in  wishing  to  bring  the  great 
cantatrice  to  the  castle ;  and  that  it  was  a  Avell-devised 
audacious  scheme  to  subdue  Countess  Anna  : — We  Austrians 


A  NEW  ORDEAL.  261 

&lso  can  he  jealous.  The  difference  between  tis  is,  that  it 
makes  us  tender,  and  you  Italians  savage."  She  asked 
pointedly  for  an  affirmative,  that  Vittoria  Avas  glad  to  reply 
with,  when  she  said :  "  Captain  Weisspriess  was  perfectly 
respectful  to  you  ?"  She  spoke  comforting  words  of  Carlo 
Ammiani,  whom  she  hoped  to  see  released  as  soon  as  the 
excitement  had  subsided.  The  chief  comfort  she  gave  was 
by  sapng  that  he  had  been  originally  arrested  in  mistake 
for  his  cousin  Angelo. 

"  I  will  confide  what  is  now  my  difficulty  here  frankly  to 
you,"  said  the  duchess.  "The  Lenkensteins  are  my  guests  ; 
I  thought  it  better  to  bring  them  here.  Angelo  Guidascarpi 
has  slain  their  brother — a  base  deed !  It  does  not  affect 
you  in  my  eyes ;  you  can  understand  that  in  theirs  it  does. 
Your  being  present — Laura  has  told  me  everything — at  the 
duel,  or  fight,  between  that  young  man  and  Captain  "Weiss- 
priess, will  make  you  appear  as  his  accomplice — at  least,  to 
Anna  it  will ;  she  is  the  most  unreasoning,  the  most  im- 
placable of  women.  She  returned  from  the  Ultenthal  last 
night,  and  goes  there  this  morning,  which  is  a  sign  that 
Captain  Weisspriess  lives.  1  should  be  sorry  if  we  lost  so 
good  an  officer.  As  she  is  going  to  take  Father  Bernardus 
with  her,  it  is  possible  that  the  wound  is  serious.  Do  you 
know  you  have  mystified  the  worthy  man  exceedingly  ? 
What  tempted  you  to  inform  him  that  your  conscience  was 
heavily  burdened,  at  the  same  time  that  you  refused  to 
confess  ?" 

"  Surely  he  has  been  deluded  about  me,"  said  Vittoria. 

"  I  do  but  tell  you  his  state  of  mind  in  regard  to  you," 
the  duchess  pursued.  "  Under  all  the  circumstances,  this 
is  what  I  have  to  ask  :  you  are  my  Laura's  guest,  therefore 
the  guest  of  my  heart.  There  is  another  one  here,  an 
Englishman,  a  Mr.  Powys ;  and  also  Lieutenant  Pierson, 
whom,  naughty  rebel  that  you  are,  you  have  been  the  means 
of  bringing  into  disgrace ;  naturally  you  would  wish  to  see 
them :  but  my  request  is,  that  you  should  keep  to  these 
rooms  for  two  or  three  days  :  the  Lenkensteins  will  then  be 
gone.  They  can  hardly  reproach  me  for  retaining  an  invalid, 
if  you  go  down  among  them,  it  will  be  a  cruel  meeting." 

Vittoria  thankfully  consented  to  the  arrangement.  They 
agreed  to  act  in  accordance  with  it. 

The  signora  was  a  late  riser.     The  duchess  had  come  on 


262  VITTORIA. 

a  second  visit  to  Vittoria  when  Laura  joined  tliem,  and 
hearing  of  the  arrangement,  spurned  the  notion  of  playing 
craven  before  the  Lenkensteins,  who,  she  said,  might  think 
as  it  pleased  them  to  think,  but  were  never  to  suppose  that 
there  was  any  fear  of  confi-onting  them.  "  And  now,  at  this 
very  moment,  when  they  have  their  triumph,  and  are  laugh- 
ing over  Viennese  squibs  at  her,  she  has  an  idea  of  hiding  her 
head — she  hangs  out  the  white  flag  !  It  can't  be.  We  go  or  we 
stay;  but  if  we  stay,  the  truth  is  that  we  are  too  poor  to  allow 
our  enemies  to  think  poorly  of  us.  You,  Amalia,  are  victorious, 
and  you  may  snap  your  fingers  at  opinion.  It  is  a  luxury 
we  cannot  afford.  Besides,  I  wish  her  to  see  my  sister  and 
make  acquaintance  with  the  Austrianized  Italian — such  a 
wonder  as  is  nowhere  to  be  seen  out  of  the  Serabiglione 
and  in  the  Lenkenstein  family.  Marriage  is,  indeed,  a 
tremendous  transformation.  Bianca  was  once  declared  to 
be  very  like  me." 

The  brow-beaten  duchess  replied  to  the  outburst  that  she 
had  considered  it  right  to  propose  the  scheme  for  Vittoria's 
seclusion  on  account  of  the  Guidascarpi. 

"  Even  if  that  were  a  good  reason,  there  are  better  on  the 
other  side,"  said  Laura ;  adding,  with  many  little  backward 
tosses  of  the  head,  "  that  story  has  to  be  related  in  full 
before  I  denounce  Angelo  and  Rinaldo." 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  that  they  are  assassins,"  returned 
the  duchess. 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  that  they  have  killed  one  man  or 
more.  For  you,  Justice  drops  from  the  bough  :  we  have  to 
climb  and  risk  our  necks  for  it.  Angelo  stood  to  defend  my 
darling  here.     Shall  she  be  ashamed  of  him  ?" 

"  You  will  never  persuade  me  to  tolerate  assassination," 
said  the  duchess  colouring. 

"  Never,  never ;  I  shall  never  persuade  you ;  never  per- 
suade—never attempt  to  persuade  any  foreigner  that  we 
can  be  driven  to  extremes  where  their  laws  do  not  apply  to 
us — are  not  good  for  us — goad  a  subjected  people  till  their 
madness  is  pardonable.  Nor  shall  I  dream  of  persuading 
you  that  Angelo  did  right  in  defending  her  from  that  man." 

"  I  maintain  that  there  are  laws  applicable  to  all  human 
creatures,"  said  the  duchess.  "  You  astonish  me  when  you 
speak  compassionately  of  such  a  criminal." 

"No;    not  of   such   a   criminal,  of  such   an  unfortunate 


A  NEW  ORDEAL.  263 

yonth,  and  my  countryman,  -when  every  liand  is  turned 
against  him,  and  all  tongues  are  reviling  him.  But  let 
Angelo  pass  ;  I  pray  to  heaven  he  may  escape.  All  who 
are  worth  anything  in  our  country  are  strained  in  every 
fibre,  and  it's  my  trick  to  be  half  in  love  "with  any  one  of 
them  when  he  is  persecuted.  I  fancy  he  is  worth  more  than 
the  others,  and  is  simply  luckless.  You  must  make  allow- 
ances for  us,  Amalia — pity  captive  Judah  !" 

"  I  think,  my  Laura,  you  will  never  be  satisfied  till  I  have 
ceased  to  be  Babylonian,"  said  the  duchess,  smiling  and 
fondling  Vittoria,  to  whom  she  said,  "  Am  I  not  a  com- 
plaisant German  ?" 

Vittoria  replied  gently,  "  If  they  were  like  yon !" 
"Yes,  if  they  were  like  the  duchess,"  said  Laura,  "nothing 
would  be  left  for  us  then  but  to  hate  ourselves.     Fortunately, 
we  deal  with  brutes." 

She  was  quite  pitiless  in  prompting  "Vittoria  to  hasten 
down,  and  marvelled  at  the  evident  reluctance  in  doing  this 
slight  duty,  of  one  whose  courage  she  had  recently  seen  rise 
so  high.  Vittoria  was  equally  amazed  by  her  want  of 
sympathy,  which  was  positive  coldness,  and  her  disregard 
for  the  sentiments  of  her  hostess.  She  dressed  hesitatingly, 
responding  with  forlorn  eyes  to  Laura's  imperious  "  Come." 
When  at  last  she  was  ready  to  descend,  Laura  took  her 
down,  full  of  battle.  The  duchess  had  gone  in  advance  to 
keep  the  peace. 

The  ladies  of  the  Lenkenstein  family  were  standing  at 
one  window  of  the  morning  room  conversing.  Apart  from 
them,  Merthyr  Powys  and  Wilfrid  were  examining  one  of 
the  cumbrous  antique  arms  ranged  along  the  wall.  The 
former  of  these  old  English  friends  stepped  up  to  Vittoria 
quickly  and  kissed  her  forehead.  Wilfrid  hung  behind 
him;  he  made  a  poor  show  of  indifference,  stammered 
English  and  reddened;  remembering  that  he  was  under 
observation  he  recovered  wonderfully,  and  asked,  like  a 
patron,  "  How  is  the  voice  ?"  which  would  have  been  foolish 
enough  to  Vittoria's  more  attentive  hearing.  She  thanked 
him  for  the  service  he  had  rendered  her  at  La  Scala. 
Countess  Lena,  who  looked  hard  at  both,  saw  nothing  to 
■waken  one  jealous  throb. 

"  Bianca,  you  expressed  a  wish  to  give  a  salute  to  my 
eldest  daughter,"  said  Laura. 


2  04  VITTORIA. 

The  Countess  of  Lenkenstein  turned  her  head.  "  Have  I 
done  so  ?" 

"It  is  my  duty  to  introduce  her,"  interposed  the  duchess, 
and  conducted  the  ceremony  with  a  show  of  its  embracing 
these  ladies,  neither  one  of  whom  changed  her  cold  gaze. 

Careful  that  no  pause  should  follow,  she  commenced  chat- 
ting to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  alternately,  keeping  Yittoria 
under  her  peculiar  charge.  Merthyr  alone  seconded  her 
efforts  to  weave  the  web  of  converse,  which  is  an  armistice 
if  not  a  treaty  on  these  occasions. 

"  Have  you  any  fresh  caricatures  from  Vienna  ?"  Laura 
continued  to  address  her  sister. 

"  ]S^one  have  reached  me,"  said  the  neutral  countess. 

*'  Have  they  finished  laughing  ?" 

•'  I  cannot  tell." 

*'  At  any  rate,  we  sing  still,"  Laura  smiled  to  Yittoria. 
"  Tou  shall  hear  us  after  breakfast.  I  regret  excessively 
that  you  were  not  in  Milan  on  the  Fifteenth.  We  will  make 
amends  to  you  as  much  as  possible.  You  shall  hear  us  after 
breakfast.  You  will  sing  to  please  my  sister,  Sandra  mia, 
will  you  not  ?" 

Yittoria  shook  her  head.  Like  those  who  have  become 
passive,  she  read  faces — the  duchess's  imploring  looks 
thrown  from  time  to  time  to  the  Lenkenstein  ladies,  Wilfrid's 
oppressed  forehead,  the  resolute  neutrality  of  the  countess — 
and  she  was  not  only  incapable  of  seconding  Laura's  aggres- 
sive war,  but  shrank  from  the  involvement  and  sickened  at 
the  indelicacy.  Anna's  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  and  filled  her 
with  dread  lest  she  should  be  resolving  to  demand  a  private 
interview. 

"  You  refuse  to  sing  ?"  said  Laura;  and  under  her  breath, 
"  when  I  bid  you  not,  you  insist !" 

"  Can  she  possibly  sing  before  she  grows  accustomed  to 
the  air  of  the  place  ?"  said  the  duchess. 

Meithyr  gravely  prescribed  a  week's  diet  on  grapes  ante- 
cedent to  the  issuing  of  a  note.  "  Have  you  never  heard 
what  a  sustained  grape-diet  will  do  for  the  bullfinches  ?" 

"  Kever,"  exclaimed  the  duchess.  "  Is  that  the  secret  of 
their  German  education  ?" 

"  Apparently,  for  we  cannot  raise  them  to  the  same  pitch 
of  perfection  in  England." 


A  NEW  ORDEAL,  265 

"  I  will  try  it  upon  mine.  Every  morning  they  shall  have 
two  big  bunches." 

"  Fresh  plucked,  and  with  the  first  sunlight  on  them.  Be 
careful  of  the  rules." 

"Wilfrid  remarked,  "  To  make  them  exhibit  the  results, 
you  withdraw  the  benefit  suddenly,  of  course  ?" 

"  We  imitate  the  general  run  of  Foi-tune's  gifts  as  much 
as  we  can,"  said  Merthyr. 

"  That  is  the  training  for  little  shrill  parrots  :  we  have 
none  in  Italy,"  Laura  sighed,  mock  dolefully ;  "  I  fear  the 
system  would  fail  among  us." 

"  It  certainly  would  not  build  Como  villas,"  said  Lena. 

Laura  cast  sharp  eyes  on  her  pretty  face. 

"  It  is  adapted  for  caged  voices  that  are  required  to 
chirrup  to  tickle  the  ears  of  boors." 

Anna  said  to  the  duchess  :  "  I  hope  your  little  birds  are 
all  well  this  morning." 

"  Come  to  them  presently  with  me  and  let  our  ears  be 
tickled,"  the  duchess  laughed  in  answer;  and  the  spiked 
dialogue  broke,  not  to  revive. 

The  duchess  had  observed  the  constant  direction  of  Anna's 
eyes  upon  Vittoria  during  the  repast,  and  looked  an  inter- 
rogation at  Anna,  who  replied  to  it  firmly.  "  I  must  bo 
present,"  the  duchess  whispered.  She  drew  Yittoria  away 
by  the  hand,  telling  Merthyr  Powys  that  it  was  unkind  to 
him,  but  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  claim  his  fair  friend 
from  noon  to  the  dinner-bell. 

Laura  and  Bianca  were  discussing  the  same  subject  as  the 
one  for  which  Anna  desired  an  interview  with  Vittoria.  It 
was  to  know  the  conditions  and  cause  of  the  duel  between 
Angelo  Guidascarpi  and  Captain  Weisspriess,  and  whither 
Angelo  had  fled.  "  In  other  words,  you  cry  for  vengeance 
under  the  name  of  justice,"  Laura  phrased  it,  and  put  up  a 
prayer  for  Angelo's  escape. 

The  countess  rebuked  her.  "  It  is  men  like  Angelo  who 
are  a  scandal  to  Italy." 

"  Proclaimed  so ;  but  by  what  title  are  they  judged  ?" 
Laura  retorted.  "  I  have  heard  that  his  duel  with  Count 
Paul  was  fair,  and  that  the  grounds  for  it  were  just. 
Deplore  it ;  but  to  condemn  an  Italian  gentleman  without 
hearing  his  personal  vindication,  is  infamous ;  nay,  it  is 
Austrian.     I  know  next  to  nothing  of  the  story.     Countess 


266  VITTORIA. 

Auimiani  has  assured  me  that  the  brothers  have  a  clear 
defence — not  from  your  Vienna  point  of  view :  Italy  and 
Vienna  are  different  sides  of  the  shield." 

Vittoria  spoke  most  humbly  before  Anna ;  her  sole  irri- 
tating remark  was,  that  even  if  she  were  aware  of  the  direc- 
tion of  Angelo's  flight,  she  would  not  betray  him. 

The  duchess  did  her  utmost  to  induce  her  to  see  that  he  was 
a  criminal,  outlawed  from  common  charity.  "'  These  Italians 
are  really  like  the  Jews,"  she  said  to  Anna  ;  "  they  appear  to 
me  to  hold  together  by  a  bond  of  race :  you  cannot  get  them 
to  understand  that  any  act  can  be  infamous  when  one  of 
their  blood  is  guilty  of  it." 

Anna  thought  gloomily  :  "  Then,  why  do  you  ally  yourself 
to  them  ?" 

The  duchess,  with  Anna,  Lena,  and  Wilfrid,  drove  to  the 
Ultenthal.  Vittoria  and  Merthyr  had  a  long  afternoon  of 
companionship.  She  had  been  shyer  in  meeting  him  than  in 
meeting  Wilfrid,  whom  she  had  once  loved.  The  tie  between 
herself  and  Wilfrid  was  bi'oken;  but  Merthyr  had  remained 
true  to  his  passionless  affection,  which  ennobled  him  to  her ' 
so  that  her  heart  fluttered,  though  she  was  heavily  depressed. 
He  relieved  her  by  letting  her  perceive  that  Carlo  Am- 
miani's  merits  were  not  unknown  to  him.  Merthyr  smiled  at 
Carlo  for  abjuring  his  patrician  birth.  He  said  :  "  Count 
Ammiani  will  be  cured  in  time  of  those  little  roughnesses  of 
his  adopted  Republicanism.  You  must  help  to  cure  him. 
Women  are  never  so  foolish  as  men  in  these  things." 

When  Merthyr  had  spoken  thus,  she  felt  that  she  might 
dare  to  press  his  hand.  Sharing  friendship  with  this  stead- 
fast nature  and  brotherly  gentleman ;  who  was  in  the  ripe 
manhood  of  his  years  ;  who  loved  Italy  and  never  despaired; 
who  gave  great  affection,  and  took  uncomplainingly  the  pos- 
sible return  for  it ; — seemed  like  entering  on  a  gi'eat  plain 
open  to  boundless  heaven.  She  thought  that  friendship  was 
sweeter  than  love.  Merthyr  soon  left  the  castle  to  meet  his 
sister  at  Coire.  Laura  and  Vittoria  drove  some  distance 
up  the  Vintschgau,  on  the  way  to  the  Engadine,  with  him. 
He  affected  not  to  be  downcast  by  the  failure  of  the  last 
attempt  at  a  rising  in  Milan.  "  Keep  true  to  your  Art ;  and 
don't  let  it  be  subservient  to  anything,"  he  said,  and  his  final 
injunction  to  her  was  that  she  should  get  a  German  master 
and  practise  rigidly. 


A  NEW  ORDEAL.  267 

Vittoria  could  only  look  at  Laura  in  replj. 

"  He  is  for  us,  but  not  of  us,"  said  Laura,  as  she  kissed  her 
fingers  to  him. 

"  If  he  had  told  me  to  weep  and  pray,"  Vittoria  murmured, 
"I  think  1  should  by-and-by  lift  up  my  head." 

"  By-and-by !  By-and-by  I  think  I  see  a  convent  for 
me,"  said  Laura. 

Their  faces  drooped. 

Vittoria  cried  :  "  Ah  !  did  he  mean  that  my  singing  at  La 
Scala  was  below  the  mark  ?" 

At  this,  Laura's  laughter  came  out  in  a  volume.  "  And 
that  excellent  Father  Bernardus  thinks  he  is  gaining  a  con- 
vert !"  she  said. 

Vittoria's  depression  was  real,  though  her  strong  vitality 
appeared  to  mock  it.  Letters  from  Milan,  enclosed  to  the 
duchess,  spoke  of  Carlo  Ammiani's  imprisonment  as  a  matter 
that  might  be  indefinitely  prolonged.  His  mother  had  been 
subjected  to  an  examination  ;  she  had  not  hesitated  to  confess 
that  she  had  received  her  nephew  in  her  house,  but  it  could 
not  be  established  against  her  that  it  was  not  Carlo  whom 
she  had  passed  off  to  the  sbim  as  her  son.  Countess  Am- 
miani  wrote  to  Laura,  telling  her  she  scarcely  hoped  that 
Carlo  Avould  obtain  his  liberty  save  upon  the  arrest  of  Angelo: 
— "  Therefore,  what  I  most  desire,  I  dare  not  pray  for !" 
That  line  of  intense  tragic  grief  haunted  Vittoria  like  a 
veiled  head  thrusting  itself  across  the  sunlight.  Countess 
Ammiani  added  that  she  must  give  her  son  what  news  she 
could  gather; — "  Concerning  y 021,"  said  Laura,  interpreting 
the  sentence  :  "  Bitter  days  do  this  good,  they  make  a  proud 
woman  abjure  the  traditions  of  her  caste."  A  guarded 
answer  was  addressed,  according  to  the  countess's  directions, 
to  Sarpo  the  bookseller,  in  Milan.  For  purposes  of  such  a 
natui-e,  Barto  Rizzo  turned  the  uneasy  craven  to  account. 

It  happened  that  one  of  the  maids  at  Sonnenbei-g  was 
about  to  marry  a  peasant  of  Meran,  part  proprietor  of  a 
vineyard,  and  the  nuptials  were  to  be  celebrated  at  the 
castle.  Among  those  who  thronged  the  courtyard  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  ceremony,  Vittoria  beheld  her  faithful 
Beppo,  who  related  the  story  of  his  pursuit  of  her,  and  the 
perfidy  of  Luigi ; — a  story  so  lengthy,  that  his  voluble 
tongue  running  at  full  speed  could  barely  give  the  outlines 
of  it.     lie  informed  her,  likewise,  that  he  had  been  sent  for, 


268  TITTORIA. 

while  lying  in  Trent,  by  Captain  Weisspriess,  whom  he  had 
seen  at  an  inn  of  the  Ultenthal,  weak  but  improving.  Beppo 
was  the  captain's  propitiatory  offering  to  Vittoria.  Mean- 
while the  ladies  sat  on  a  terrace,  overlooking  the  court,  where 
a  stout  fellow  in  broad  green  braces  and  blue  breeches  lay 
half  across  a  wooden  table,  thrumming  a  zither,  which  set 
the  groups  in  motion.  The  zither  is  a  melancholy  little 
instrument ;  in  range  of  expression  it  is  to  the  harp  what 
the  winchat  is  to  the  thrush ;  or  to  the  violin,  what  that 
bird  is  to  the  nightingale  ;  yet  few  instruments  are  so 
exciting :  here  and  there  along  these  mountain  valleys  you 
may  hear  a  Tyrolese  maid  set  her  voice  to  its  plaintive  thin 
tones ;  but  when  the  strings  are  swept  madly  there  is  mad 
dancing;  it  catches  at  the  nerves.  "Andreas!  Andreas!" 
the  dancers  shouted  to  encourage  the  player.  Some  danced 
with  vine-poles  ;  partners  broke  and  wandered  at  will,  taking 
fresh  partners,  and  occasionally  huddling  in  confusion,  when 
the  poles  were  levelled  and  tilted  at  them,  and  they  dispersed. 
Beppo,  dancing  mightily  to  recover  the  use  of  his  legs,  met 
his  acquaintance  Jacob  Baumwalder  Feckelwitz,  and  the  pair 
devoted  themselves  to  a  rivalry  of  capers ;  jump,  stamp, 
shuffle,  leg  aloft,  arms  in  air,  yell  and  shriek :  all  took  hands 
around  them  and  streamed,  tramping  the  measure,  and  the 
vine-poles  guarded  the  ring.  Then  Andreas  raised  the  song: 
"  Our  Lady  is  gracious,"  and  immediately  the  whole  assem- 
blage were  singing  praise  to  the  Lady  of  the  castle.  Follow- 
ing which,  wine  being  brought  to  Andreas,  he  drank  to  his 
lady,  to  his  lady's  guests,  to  the  binde,  to  the  bridegroom, — 
to  everybody.  He  was  now  ready  to  iipprovize,  and  dashed 
thumb  and  finger  on  the  zither,  tossing  up  his  face,  swarthy- 
flushed  :  "  There  was  a  steinbock  with  a  beard."  Half-a- 
dozen  voices  repeated  it,  as  to  proclaim  the  theme. 

"  Alas  !  a  beard  indeed,  for  there  is  no  end  to  this  animal. 
I  know  him ;"  said  the  duchess  dolefully. 

"There  was  a  steinbock  with  a  beard  ; 
Of  no  trnn  was  he  afeard  : 

Piff-pafE  left  of  him  :  piff-paff  right  of  him  : 
Piff-pafE  everywhere,  where  you  get  a  sight  of  him.'* 

The  steinbock  led  through  the  whole  course  of  a  moun- 
taineer's emotions  and  experiences,-  with  piff-paff  continually 
left  of  him  and  right  of  him  and  nothing  hitting  him.     The 


A  NEW  OEDEAL.  269 

monntameer  is  perplexed ;  an  able  man,  a  dead  sliot,  who 
must  undo  the  puzzle  or  lose  faith  in  his  skill,  is  a  tremendous 
pursuer,  and  the  mountaineer  follows  the  steinbock  ever.  A 
sennderin  at  a  sennhiitchen  tells  him  that  she  admitted  the 
eteinbock  last  night,  and  her  curled  hair  frizzled  under  the 
Kteinbock's  eyes.     The  case  is  only  too  clear :  my  goodness  ! 

the  steinbock  is  the .     "Der  Teu.  .  .  .  !"  said  Andreas, 

with  a  comic  stop  of  horror,  the  rhyme  falling  cleverly  to 
*'ai."  Henceforth  the  mountaineer  becomes  transformed  into 
a  champion  of  humanity,  hunting  the  wicked  bearded  stein- 
bock in  all  corners  ;  especially  through  the  cabinet  of  those 
dark  men  who  decree  the  taxes  detested  in  Tyrol. 

The  song  had  as  yet  but  fairly  commenced,  when  a  break 
in  the  '  piff-paff  '  chorus  warned  Andreas  that  he  was  losing 
influence,  women  and  men  were  handing  on  a  paper  and 
bending  their  heads  over  it;  their  responses  hushed  alto- 
gether, or  were  ludicrously  inefficient. 

"  I  really  believe  the  poor  brute  has  come  to  a  Christian 
finish — this  Ahasuerus  of  steinbocks  !"  said  the  duchess. 

The  transition  to  silence  was  so  extraordinary  and  abrupt, 
that  she  called  to  her  chasseur  to  know  the  meaning  of  it. 
Feckelwitz  fetched  the  paper  and  handed  it  up.  It  exhibited 
a  cross  done  in  blood  under  the  word  '  Meran,'  and 'bearing 
that  day's  date.  One  glance  at  it  told  Laura  what  it  meant. 
The  bride  in  the  court  below  was  shedding  tears :  the  bride- 
groom was  lighting  his  pipe  and  consoling  her :  women  were 
chattering,  men  shrugging.  Some  said  they  had  seen  an  old 
grey-haired  hag  (Jieoce)  stand  at  the  gates  and  fling  down  a 
piece  of  paper.  A  little  boy  whose  imagination  was  alive 
with  the  tale  of  the  steinbock,  declared  that  her  face  Avas 
awful,  and  that  she  had  only  the  use  of  one  foot,  A  raau 
patted  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  gave  him  a  gulp  of  wine, 
saying  with  his  shrewdest  air :  '*  One  may  laugh  at  the  devil 
once  too  often,  though!"  and  that  sentiment  was  echoed; 
the  women  suggested  in  addition  the  possibility  of  the  bride 
Lisa  having  something  on  her  conscience,  seeing  that  she 
had  lived  in  a  castle  two  years  and  more.  The  potential 
persuasions  of  Father  Bernardus  were  required  to  get  the 
bride  to  go  away  to  her  husband's  I'oof  that  evening :  when 
she  did  make  her  departure,  the  superstitious  peasantry  were 
not  a  merry  party  that  followed  at  her  heels. 

At  the  break-up  of  the  festivities  Wilfrid  received  an  inti- 


270  VITTOEIA. 

matlon  that  his  sister  had  arrived  in  Meran  from  Borrfiio. 
He  went  down  to  see  her,  and  i-eturned  at  a  late  hour.  The 
ladies  had  gone  to  rest.  He  wrote  a  few  underlined  words, 
entreating  Vittoria  to  gi'ant  an  immediate  interview  in  the 
library  of  the  castle.  The  missive  was  entrusted  to  Aennchen. 
Vittoria  came  in  alarm. 

"  Mj  sister  is  perfectly  well,"  said  Wilfrid.  "  She  has 
heard  that  Captain  Gambier  has  been  arrested  in  the  moun- 
tains ;  she  had  some  fears  concerning  you,  which  I  quieted. 
What  I  have  to  tell  you,  does  not  relate  to  her.  The  man 
Angelo  Guidascarpi  is  in  Meran.  I  wish  you  to  let  the 
signora  know  that  if  he  is  not  carried  out  of  the  city  before 
sunset  to-morrow,  I  must  positively  inform  the  superior 
officer  of  the  district  of  his  presence  there." 

This  was  their  first  private  interview.  Vittoria  (for  she 
knew  him)  had  acceded  to  it,  much  fearing  that  it  would 
lead  to  her  having  to  put  on  her  sex's  armour.  To  collect 
her  wits,  she  asked  tremblingly  how  Wilfrid  had  chanced  to 
see  Angelo.  An  old  Italian  woman,  he  said,  had  accosted 
him  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  hearing  that  he  was 
truly  an  Englishmen — "  I  am  out  of  my  uniform,"  Wilfrid 
l^emarked  with  intentional  bitterness — had  conducted  him  to 
the  house  of  an  Italian  in  the  city,  where  Angelo  Guidascarpi 
was  lying. 

"111?"  said  Vittoria. 

"  Just  recovering.  After  that  duel,  or  whatever  it  may 
be  called,  with  Weisspriess,  he  lay  all  night  out  on  the 
mountains.  He  managed  to  get  the  help  of  a  couple  of 
fellows,  who  led  him  at  dusk  into  Meran,  saw  an  Italian 
name  over  a  shop,  and — I  will  say  for  them  that  the  rascals 
hold  together.     There  he  is,  at  all  events." 

"Would  you  denounce  a  sick  man,  Wilfrid  ?" 

"  I  certainly  cannot  forget  my  duty  upon  every  point." 

"You  are  changed !" 

"  Changed  !     Am  I  the  only  one  who  is  changed  ?" 

"  He  must  have  supposed  that  it  would  be  Merthyr.  I 
remember  speaking  of  Merthyr  to  him  as  our  unchangeable 
friend.     I  told  him  Merthyr  would  be  here." 

"  Instead  of  Merthyr,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  see  your 
changeable  friend,  if  you  will  have  it  so." 

"  But  how  can  it  be  your  duty  to  denounce  him,  Wilfrid, 
You  have  quitted  that  ai'my." 


A  NEW  ORDEAL.  271 

**  Have  I  ?     I  have  forfeited  my  rank,  perhaps.'* 

"  And  Angelo  is  not  guilty  of  a  military  offence." 

*'  He  has  slain  one  of  a  family  that  I  am  bound  to  respect." 

*'  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Vittoria  hurriedly. 

Her  forehead  showed  distress  of  mind ;  she  wanted  Laura's 
counsel. 

"  Wilfrid,  do  you  know  the  whole  story  ?" 

"  I  know  that  he  inveigled  Count  Paul  to  his  house  and 
slew  him ;  either  he  or  his  brother,  or  both." 

"  I  have  been  with  him  for  days,  Wilfrid.  I  believe  that 
he  would  do  no  dishonourable  thing.     He  is  related " 

"  He  is  the  cousin  of  Count  Ammiani." 

"  Ah  !  would  you  plunge  us  in  misery  ?" 

"How?" 

*'  Count  Ammiani  is  my  lover." 

She  uttered  it  unblushingly,  and  with  tender  eyes  fixed 
on  him. 

"  Your  lover !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  vile  emphasis. 

"  He  will  be  my  husband,"  she  murmured,  while  the 
mounting  hot  colour  burned  at  her  temples. 

"  Changed — who  is  changed  F  "  he  said,  in  a  vehement 
underneath.  "  For  that  reason  I  am  to  be  false  to  her  who 
does  me  the  honour  to  care  for  me  !  " 

"  I  would  not  have  you  false  to  her  in  thought  or  deed." 

"  You  ask  me  to  spare  this  man  on  account  of  his  relation- 
ship to  your  lover,  and  though  he  has  murdered  the  brother 
of  the  lady  whom  I  esteem.  What  on  earth  is  the  meaning 
of  the  petition  ?     Really,  you  amaze  me." 

"  I  appeal  to  your  generosity,  Wilfrid.     I  am  Emilia," 

*'  Are  you  ?  " 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  He  took  it,  and  felt  at  once  the 
limit  of  all  that  he  might  claim.  Dropping  the  hand,  he 
said  : — ■ 

"Will  nothing  less  than  my  ruin  satisfy  you?  Since  that 
night  at  La  Scala,  I  am  in  disgrace  with  my  uncle  ;  I  expect 
at  any  moment  to  hear  that  I  am  cashiered  from  the  army, 
if  not  a  prisoner.  What  is  it  that  you  ask  of  me  now  ?  To 
conspire  with  you  in  shielding  the  man  who  has  done  a 
mortal  injury  to  the  family  of  which  I  am  almost  one. 
Your  reason  must  perceive  that  you  ask  too  much.  I  would 
willingly  assist  you  in  sparing  the  feelings  of  Count 
Ammiani ;    and,  believe  me,  gratitude  is  the  last  thing  I 


272  VITTORIA. 

require  to  stimulate  my  services.      Yon  ask  too  mncli ;  you 
must  see  that  you  ask  too  much." 

"  I  do,"  said  Vittoria.     "  Good  night,  Wilfrid." 

He  was  startled  to  find  her  going,  and  lost  his  equable 
voice  in  trying  to  detain  her.  She  sought  relief  in  Laura's 
bosom,  to  whom  she  recapitulated  the  interview. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  Laura  said,  looking  at  her  intently,  "  that 
you  do  not  recognize  the  folly  of  telling  this  Lieutenant 
Pierson  that  you  were  pleading  to  him  on  behalf  of  your 
lover  ?  Could  anything  be  so  monstrous,  when  one  can  see 
that  he  is  malleable  to  the  twist  of  your  little  finger  ?  Are 
you  only  half  a  woman,  that  you  have  no  consciousness  of 
your  power  ?  Probably  you  can  allow  yourcelf — enviable 
privilege  ! — to  suppose  that  he  called  you  down  at  this  late 
hour  simply  to  inform  you  that  he  is  compelled  to  do  some- 
thing which  will  cause  you  unhappiness  !  I  repeat,  it  is  an 
enviable  privilege.  Now,  when  the  real  occasion  has  come 
for  you  to  serve  us,  you  have  not  a  single  weapon — except 
these  tears,  which  you  are  wasting  on  my  lap.  Be  sure  that 
if  he  denounces  Angelo,  Angelo's  life  cries  out  against  you. 
You  have  but  to  quicken  your  brain  to  save  him.  Did  he 
expose  his  life  for  you  or  not  ?  I  knew  that  he  was  in 
Meran,"  the  signora  continued  sadly.  "  The  paper  which 
frightened  the  silly  peasants,  revealed  to  me  that  he  was 
there,  needing  help.  I  told  you  Angelo  was  under  an  evil 
star.  I  thought  my  day  to-morrow  would  be  a  day  of 
scheming.     The  task  has  become  easy,  if  you  will." 

"  Be  merciful ;  the  task  is  dreadful,"  said  Vittoria. — "  The 
task  is  simple.  You  have  an  instrument  ready  to  your 
hands.  You  can  do  just  what  you  like  with  him — make  an 
Italian  of  him ;  make  him  renounce  his  engagement  to  this 
pert  little  Lena  of  Lenkenstein,  break  his  swoi-d,  play 
Arlecchino,  do  what  you  please.  He  is  not  required  for  any 
outrageous  performance.  A  week,  and  Angelo  will  have 
recovered  his  strength ;  you  likewise  may  resume  the 
statuesque  demeanour  which  you  have  been  exhibiting  here. 
For  the  space  of  one  week  you  are  asked  for  some  natural 
exercise  of  your  wits  and  compliancy.  Hitherto  what  have 
you  accomplished,  pray  ?  "  Laura  struck  spitefully  at  Vit- 
toria's  degraded  estimation  of  her  worth  as  measured  by 
events.  "  You  have  done  nothing — worse  than  nothing.  It 
gives  me  horrors  to   find   it   necessary    to   entreat  you  to 


A  NEW  ORDEAl.  273 

look  yonr  duty  in  the  face  and  do  it,  tliat  even  three  or 
four  Italian  hearts — Carlo  among  them— may  thank  you. 
Not  Carlo,  you  say?"  (Vittoria  had  sobbed,  "No,  not 
Carlo.")  "  How  little  you  know  men !  How  little  do  you 
reflect  how  the  obligations  of  the  hour  should  affect  a  crea- 
ture deserving  life  I  Do  you  fancy  that  Carlo  wishes  you  to 
be  for  ever  reading  the  line  of  a  copy-book  and  shaping  your 
conduct  by  it  ?  Our  Italian  gii-ls  do  this  ;  he  despises  them. 
Listen  to  me ;  do  not  I  know  what  is  meant  by  the  truth 
of  love  ?  I  pass  through  fire,  and  keep  constant  to  it ; 
but  you  have  some  vile  Romance  of  Chivalry  in  your 
head;  a  modern  sculptor's  figure,  'Meditation;'  that  is  the 
sort  of  bride  you  would  give  him  in  the  stirring  days  of 
Italy.  Do  you  think  it  is  only  a  statue  that  can  be  true  ? 
Perceive — will  you  not — that  this  Lieutenant  Pierson  is  your 
enemy.  He  tells  you  as  much  ;  surely  the  challenge  is 
fair  ?  Defeat  him  as  you  best  can.  Angelo  shall  not  be 
abandoned." 

"Ome!  it  is  unendui'able ;  you  are  merciless,"  said  Vit- 
toria, shuddering. 

She  saw  the  vile  figure  of  herself  aping  smirks  and  tender 
meanings  to  her  old  lover.  It  was  a  picture  that  she  dared 
not  let  her  mind  rest  on  :  how  then  could  she  personate  it  ? 
All  through  her  life  she  had  been  frank  ;  as  a  young  woman, 
she  was  clear  of  soul ;  she  felt  that  her  simplicity  was 
already  soiled  by  the  bare  comprehension  of  the  abominable 
course  indicated  by  Laura.  Degradation  seemed  to  have 
been  a  thing  up  to  this  moment  only  dreamed  of ;  but  now 
that  it  was  demanded  of  her  to  play  coquette  and  trick  her 
■womanhood  with  false  allurements,  she  knew  the  sentiment 
of  utter  ruin ;  she  was  ashamed.  No  word  is  more  lightly 
spoken  than  shame.  Vittoria's  early  devotion  to  her  Art,  and 
subsequently  to  her  Italy,  had  carried  her  through  the  term 
when  she  would  otherwise  have  showed  the  natural  mild 
attack  of  the  disease.  It  came  on  her  now  in  a  rush,  pene- 
trating every  chamber  of  her  heart,  overwhelming  her ;  she 
could  see  no  distinction  between  being  ever  so  little  false 
and  altogether  despicable.  She  had  loathings  of  her  body 
and  her  life.  With  grovelling  difficulty  of  speech  she  endea- 
voured to  convey  the  sense  of  her  repugnance  to  Laura,  who 
leaned  her  ear,  wondering  at  such  bluntness  of  wit  in  a 
woman,  and  said,  *'  Are  you  quite  deficient  in  the  craft  of 

T 


274  VTTTORIA. 

your  sex,  cTiiM  ?  Tou  can,  and  you  will,  gnard  yourself  ten 
times  better  when  your  aim  is  simply  to  subject  him."  But 
this  was  not  reason  to  a  spirit  writhing  in  the  serpent-coil 
of  fiery  blushes. 

Vittoria  said,  "  I  shall  pity  him  so." 

She  meant  she  would  pity  Wilfrid  in  deluding  him.  It 
was  a  taint  of  the  hypocrisy  which  comes  with  shame. 

The  signora  retorted :  "  I  can't  follow  the  action  of  your 
mind  a  bit." 

Pity  being  a  form  of  tenderness,  Laura  supposed  that  she 
would  intuitively  hate  the  man  who  compelled  her  to  do 
what  she  abhorred. 

They  spent  the  greater  portion  of  the  night  in  this  debate. 


CHAPTER  XXYIIL 

THE   ESCAPE    OF   ANGELO. 


Vittoria  knew  better  than  Laura  that  the  task  was  easy  • 
she  had  but  to  override  her  aversion  to  the  show  of  triflinsr 
with  a  dead  passion  ;  and  when  she  thought  of  Angelo  lying 
helpless  in  the  swarm  of  enemies,  and  that  Wilfrid  could 
consent  to  use  his  tragic  advantage  to  force  her  to  silly  love- 
play,  his  selfishness  wrought  its  reflection,  so  that  she 
became  sufiiciently  unjust  to  forget  her  marvellous  personal 
influence  over  him.  Even  her  tenacious  sentiment  concern- 
iner  his  white  uniform  was  clouded.  She  very  soon  ceased 
to  be  shamefaced  in  her  own  fancy.  At  dawn  she  stood  at 
tier  window  looking  across  the  valley  of  Meran,  and  felt  the 
whole  scene  in  a  song  of  her  heart,  with  the  faintest  recol- 
lection of  her  having  passed  through  a  tempest  overnight. 
The  warm  Southern  glow  of  the  enfoliaged  valley  recalled 
her  living  Italy,  and  Italy  her  voice.  She  grew  wakefully 
glad:  it  was  her  nature,  not  her  mind,  that  had  twisted  in 
the  convulsions  of  last  night's  horror  of  shame.  The  chirp 
of  healthy  blood  in  full-flowing  veins  dispersed  it ;  and  as  a 
tropical  atmosphere  is  cleared  by  the  hurricane,  she  lost  her 
depression  and  went  down  among  her  enemies  possessed  by 
an  inner  delight,  that  was  again  of  her  nature,  not  of  her 


THE  ESCArE  OP  ANOELO.  275 

mind.  She  took  her  gladness  for  a  happy  sign  that  she  had 
power  to  rise  buoyant  abo\'e  circumstances ;  and  thou^-h 
aware  that  she  was  getting  to  see  things  in  harsh  outlines, 
she  was  unconscious  of  her  haggard  imagination. 

The  Lenkensteins  had  projected  to  escape  the  blandish- 
ments of  Vienna  by  residing  during  the  winter  in  Venice, 
where  Wilfrid  and  his  sister  were  to  be  the  guests  of  the 
countess  : — a  pleasant  prospect  that  was  dashed  out  by  an 
official  visit  from  Colonel  Zofel  of  the  Meran  garrison, 
through  whom  it  was  known  that  Lieutenant  Pierson,  while 
enjoying  his  full  liberty  to  investigate  the  charms  of  the 
neighbourhood,  might  not  extend  his  excursions  beyond  a 
pedestrian  day's  limit ; — he  was,  in  fact,  under  surveillance. 
The  colonel  formally  exacted  his  word  of  honour  that  he 
would  not  attempt  to  pass  the  bounds,  and  explained  to  tho 
duchess  that  the  injunction  was  favourable  to  the  lieutenant, 
as  implying  that  he  must  be  ready  at  any  moment  to  receive 
the  order  to  join  his  regiment.  Wilfrid  boAved  with  a  proper 
soldierly  submission.  Respecting  the  criminal  whom  his 
men  were  pursuing,  Colonel  Zofel  said  that  he  was  sparing 
no  efforts  to  come  on  his  traces  ;  he  supposed,  from  what  he 
had  heard  in  the  Ultenthal,  that  Guidascarpi  was  on  his 
back  somewhere  within  a  short  range  of  !Mej'an.  Vittoria 
strained  her  ears  to  the  colonel's  German ;  she  fancied  his 
communication  to  be  that  he  suspected  Angelo's  presence  in 
Meran. 

The  official  part  of  his  visit  being  terminated,  the  colonel 
addressed  some  questions  to  the  duchess  concerning  the  night 
of  the  famous  Fifteenth  at  La  Scala.  He  was  an  amateur, 
and  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  the  reports  of  the  new  prima 
donna.  The  duchess  perceived  that  he  was  asking  for  an 
introduction  to  the  heroine  of  the  night,  and  graciously  said 
that  perhaps  that  very  prima  donna  would  make  amends  to 
him  for  his  absence  on  the  occasion,  Vittoria  checked  a 
movement  of  revolt  in  her  frame.  She  cast  an  involuntary  look 
at  Wilfrid.  "  Now  it  begins,"  she  thought,  and  went  to  the 
piano  :  she  had  previously  refused  to  sing.  Wilfrid  had  to 
bend  his  head  over  his  betrothed  and  listen  to  her  whisper- 
ings. He  did  so,  carelessly  swaying  his  hand  to  the  measure 
of  the  aria,  with  an  increasing  bitter  comparison  of  the  two 
voices.  Lena  persisted  in  talking  ;  she  was  indignant  at  his 
abandonment  of  the  journey  to  Venice  ;   she  reproached  him 

t2 


276  VITTORIA. 

as  feeble,  inconsiderate,  indifferent.  Then  for  an  instant 
she  would  pause  to  hear  the  voice,  and  renew  her  assault. 
"  We  ought  to  be  thankful  that  she  is  not  singing  a  song  of 
death  and  destruction  to  us !  The  archduchess  is  coming 
to  Venice.  If  you  are  presented  to  her  and  please  her,  and 
get  the  writs  of  naturalization  prepared,  you  will  be  one  of 
us  completely,  and  your  fortune  is  made.  If  you  stay  here 
—why  should  you  stay  ?  It  is  nothing  but  yoixr  uncle's 
caprice.  I  am  too  angry  to  care  for  music.  If  you  stay, 
you  will  earn  my  contempt.  I  will  not  be  buried  another 
week  in  such  a  place.  I  am  tired  of  weeping.  We  all  go  to 
Venice :  Captain  Weisspriess  follows  us.  We  are  to  have 
endless  Balls,  an  opera,  a  Court  there — with  whom  am  I  to 
dance,  pray,  when  I  am  out  of  mourning  ?  Am  I  to  sit  and 
govern  my  feet  under  a  chair,  and  gaze  like  an  imbecile 
nun  ?  It  is  too  preposterous.  I  am  betrothed  to  you  ;  I  wish, 
I  wish  to  behave  like  a  betrothed.  The  archduchess  herself 
will  laugh  to  see  me  chained  to  a  chair.  I  shall  have  to 
reply  a  thousand  times  to  '  Where  is  he  ?'  What  can  I 
answer  ?     '  Wouldn't  come,'  will  be  the  only  true  reply." 

During  this  tirade,  Vittoria  was  singing  one  of  her  old 
songs,  well  known  to  Wilfrid,  which  brought  the  vision  of  a 
foaming  weir,  and  moonlight  between  the  branches  of  a  great 
cedar-tree,  and  the  lost  love  of  his  heart  sitting  by  his  side 
in  the  noising  stillness.  He  was  sure  that  she  could  be 
singing  it  for  no  one  but  for  him.  The  leap  taken  by  his 
spirit  from  this  time  to  that,  was  shorter  than  from  the  past 
back  to  the  present. 

"  You  do  not  applaud,"  said  Lena,  when  the  song  had 
ceased. 

He  murmured  :   "  I  never  do,  in  drawing-rooms." 

"  A  cantatrice  expects  it  everywhere  ;  these  creatures  live 
on  it." 

"  I'll  tell  her,  if  you  like,  what  we  thought  of  it,  when  I 
take  her  down  to  my  sister,  presently." 

"  Are  you  not  to  take  me  down  ?" 

"  The  etiquette  is  to  hand  her  up  to  you." 

"No,  no  !"  Lena  insisted,  in  abhorrence  of  etiquette;  but 
Wilfrid  said  pointedly  that  his  sister's  feelings  must  be 
spared.  "  Her  husband  is  an  animal :  he  is  a  millionaire 
citj-of -London  merchant ;    conceive  him  !      He  has  drunk 


THE  ESCAPE  OP  AXGELO.  277 

himself  gouty  on  Poi't  wine,  and  here  ho  is  for  the  grape- 
cure." 

"  Ah !  in  that  England  of  yours,  women  marry  for  wealth,** 
said  Lena. 

"  Yes,  in  your  Austria  they  have  a  better  motive,"  he 
interpreted  her  sentiment. 

"  Say,  in  our  Austria." 

"  In  our  Austria,  certainly." 

"And  with  our  holy  religion?" 

"  It  is  not  yet  mine." 

"  It  will  be  ?"      She  put  the  question  eagerly. 

Wilfrid  hesitated,  and  by  his  adept  hesitation  succeeded 
in  throwing  her  off  the  jealous  scent. 

"  Say  that  it  will  be,  my  Wilfrid  !" 

•'  You  must  give  me  time." 

"  This  subject  always  makes  you  cold.** 

"My  own  Lena!" 

"  Can  I  be,  if  we  are  doomed  to  be  parted  when  we  die  ?'* 

There  is  small  space  for  compunction  in  a  man's  heart 
when  he  is  in  Wilfrid's  state,  burning  with  the  revival  of 
what  seemed  to  him  a  superhuman  attachment.  He  had  no 
design  to  break  his  acknowledged  bondage  to  Countess  Lena, 
and  answered  her  tender  speech  almost  as  tenderly. 

It  never  occurred  to  him,  as  he  was  walking  down  to 
Meran  with  Vittoria,  that  she  could  suppose  him  to  be 
bartering  to  help  rescue  the  life  of  a  wi'etched  man  in  return 
for  soft  confidential  looks  of  entreaty ;  nor  did  he  reflect 
that,  when  cast  on  him,  they  might  mean  no  more  than  the 
wish  to  move  him  for  a  charitable  purpose.  The  complete- 
ness of  her  fascination  was  shown  by  his  reading  her  entirely 
by  his  own  emotions,  so  that  a  lowly-uttered  word,  or  a 
wavering  unwilling  glance,  made  him  think  that  she  was 
subdued  by  the  charm  of  the  old  days. 

"  Is  it  here  ?"  she  said,  stopping  under  the  first  Italian 
name  she  saw  in  the  arcade  of  shops. 

"  How  on  earth  have  you  guessed  it  ?"  he  asked,  as- 
tonished. 

She  told  him  to  wait  at  the  end  of  the  arcade,  and  passed 
in.  When  she  joined  him  again,  she  was  downcast.  They 
went  straight  to  Adela's  hotel,  where  the  one  thing  which 
gave  her  animation  was  the  hearing  that  Mr.  Sedley  had 
met  an  English  doctor  there,  and  had  placed  himself  in  his 


278  VITTORIA. 

hands.  Adela  dressed  splendidly  for  her  presentation  to 
the  duchess.  Having  done  so,  she  noticed  Vittoria's  de- 
pressed countenance  and  difficult  breathing.  She  com- 
manded her  to  see  the  doctor.  Vittoria  consented,  and 
made  use  of  him.  She  could  tell  Laura  confidently  at  night 
that  Wilfrid  would  not  beti'ay  Angelo,  thoiigh  she  had  not 
spoken  one  direct  word  to  him  on  the  subject. 

Wilfrid  Avas  peculiarly  adept  in  the  idle  game  he  played. 
One  who  is  intent  upon  an  evil  end  is  open  to  expose  his 
plan.  But  he  had  none  in  view ;  he  lived  for  the  luxurious 
sensation  of  being  near  the  woman  who  fascinated  him,  and 
who  Avas  now  positively  abashed  when  by  his  side.  Adela 
suggested  to  him  faintly — she  believed  it  was  her  spon- 
taneous idea — that  he  might  be  making  his  countess  jealous. 
He  assured  her  that  the  fancy  sprang  from  scenes  Avhich 
she  remembered,  and  that  she  could  have  no  idea  of  the 
pride  of  a  highborn  Austrian  girl,  Avho  was  incapable  of 
conceiving  jealousy  of  a  person  below  her  class.  Adela 
replied  that  it  was  not  his  manner  so  much,  as  Emilia's 
which  might  arouse  the  suspicion ;  but  she  immediately 
affected  to  appreciate  the  sentiments  of  a  highborn  Austrian 
girl  toward  a  cantatrice,  Avhose  gifts  we  regard  simply  as 
an  aristocratic  entertainment.  Wilfrid  induced  bis  sister 
to  relate  Vittoria's  early  history  to  Countess  Lena ;  and 
himself  almost  Avondered,  Avhen  he  heard  it  in  bare  Avords, 
at  that  haunting  vision  of  the  glory  of  Vittoria  at  La  Scala 
— Avhere,  as  he  remembered,  he  would  have  run  against 
destruction  to  cling  to  her  lips.  Adela  Avas  at  first  alarmed 
by  the  concentrated  Avrathfulness  which  she  discovered  in 
the  bosom  of  Countess  Anna,  who,  as  their  intimacy  waxed, 
spoke  of  the  intruding  opera  siren  in  terms  hardly  proper 
even  to  married  Avomen ;  but  it  seemed  right,  as  being  pos- 
sibly aristocratic.  Lena  was  much  more  tolerant.  "  I  have 
just  the  same  enthusiasm  for  soldiers  that  my  Wilfrid  has 
for  singers,"  she  said ;  and  it  afforded  Adela  exquisite 
pleasure  to  hear  her  tell  how  that  she  had  originally  heard 
of  the  '  eccentric  young  Englishman,'  General  Pierson's 
nephew,  as  a  Lustspiel — a  comedy ;  and  of  his  feats  on 
horseback,  and  his  duels,  and  his — "  he  was  very  wicked 
over  here,  you  know ;"  Lena  laughed.  She  assumed  the 
privileges  of  her  four-and-tAventy  years  and  her  rank.  Her 
marriage  Avas  to  take  place  in  the  Spring.     She  announced 


THE  ESCAPE  OP  ANGELO.  279 

it  with  the  simplicity  of  an  independent  woman  of  the 
workl,  adding,  "  That  is,  if  my  Wilfrid  will  oblige  me  by 
not  plunging  into  further  disgrace  with  the  General." 

"No  ;  you  will  not  marry  a  man  who  is  under  a  cloud," 
Anna  subjoined. 

"  Certainly  not  a  soldier,"  said  Lena.  "  What  it  was 
exactly  that  he  did  at  La  Scala,  I  don't  know,  and  don't 
care  to  know,  but  he  was  then  ignorant  that  she  had  touched 
the  hand  of  that  Guidascarpi.  I  decide  by  this — he  was 
valiant ;  he  defied  everybody :  therefore,  /  forgive  him. 
He  is  not  in  disgrace  with  me.     I  will  reinstate  him." 

"  You  have  your  own  way  of  being  romantic,"  said  Anna. 
"A  soldier  who  forgets  his  duty  is  in  my  opinion  only  a 
brave  fool." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  a  great  many  gallant  oflBcei's  are 
fond  of  fine  voices,"  Lena  retorted. 

"No  doubt  it  is  a  fashion  among  them,"  said  Anna. 

Adela  recoiled  with  astonishment  when  she  began  to  see 
the  light  in  which  the  sisters  regarded  Vittoria ;  and  she 
was  loyal  enough  to  hint  and  protest  on  her  friend's  behalf. 
The  sisters  called  her  a  very  good  soul.  "  It  may  not  be 
in  England  as  over  here,"  said  Anna.  "  We  have  to  submit 
to  these  little  social  scourges." 

Lena  whispered  to  Adela,  "  An  angry  woman  will  think 
the  worst.  I  have  no  doubt  of  my  Wilfrid.  If  I  had  !" 
Her  eyes  flashed.     Fire  was  not  wanting  in  her. 

The  difficulties  which  tasked  the  amiable  duchess  to 
preserve  an  outAvard  show  of  peace  among  the  antago- 
nistic elements  she  gathered  together  were  increased  by 
the  arrival  at  the  castle  of  Count  Lenkenstein,  Bianca's 
husband,  and  head  of  the  family,  from  Bologna.  He  was 
a  tall  and  courtly  man,  who  had  one  face  for  his  friends 
and  another  for  the  reverse  party  ;  Avhich  is  to  say,  that 
his  manners  could  be  bad.  Count  Lenkenstein  was  ac- 
companied by  Count  Serabiglione,  who  brought  Laura's 
children  with  their  Roman  nurse,  Assunta.  Laura  kissed 
her  little  ones,  and  sent  them  out  of  her  sight.  Vittoria 
found  her  home  in  their  play  and  prattle.  She  needed 
a  refuge,  for  Count  Lenkenstein  was  singularly  brutal  in 
his  bearing  toward  her.  Ho  let  her  know  that  he  had 
come  to  Mcran  to  superintend  the  hunt  for  the  assassin, 
Angelo  Guidascarpi.     He  attempted  to  exact  her  promise  ia 


280  VITTOEIA. 

precise  speech  that  she  would  be  on  the  spot  to  testify 
against  Angelo  when  that  foul  villain  should  be  caught. 
He  objected  openly  to  Laura's  children  going  about  with 
her.  Bitter  talk  on  every  starting  subject  was  exchanged 
across  the  duchess's  table.  She  herself  was  in  disgrace  on 
Laura's  account,  and  had  to  practise  an  overflowing  sweet- 
ness, with  no  one  to  second  her  efforts.  The  two  noblemen 
spoke  in  accord  on  the  bubble  revolution.  The  strong  hand 
— ay,  the  strong  hand  !  The  strong  hand  disposes  of  vermin. 
Laura  listened  to  them,  pallid  with  silent  torture.  "  Since 
the  x'ascals  have  taken  to  assassination,  we  know  that  we 
have  them  at  the  dregs,"  said  Count  Lenkenstein.  "A  cord 
round  the  throats  of  a  few  scores  of  them,  and  the  country 
will  learn  the  virtue  of  docility." 

Laura  whispered  to  her  sister :  "  Have  yoa  espoused  a 
hangman  ?" 

Such  dropping  of  deadly  shells  in  a  quiet  society  went 
near  to  scattering  it  violently ;  but  the  union  was  neces- 
sitous. Count  Lenkenstein  desired  to  confront  Vittoria  with 
Angelo ;  Laura  would  not  quit  her  side,  and  Amalia  would 
not  expel  her  friend.  Count  Lenkenstein  complained  roughly 
of  Laura's  conduct ;  nor  did  Laura  escape  her  father's  re- 
proof. "  Sir,  you  are  privileged  to  say  what  you  will  to 
me,"  she  responded,  with  the  humility  which  exasperated 
him. 

"  Yes,  you  bend,  you  bend,  that  yon  may  be  stiff-necked 
wjen  it  suits  you,"  he  snapped  her  short. 

"  Surely  that  is  the  text  of  the  sex-mon  you  preach  to  our 
Italy !" 

"  A  little  more,  as  you  are  running  on  now,  madame,  and 
*  our  Italy '  will  be  froth  on  the  lips.  You  see,  she  is 
ruined." 

"  Chi  le  fa,  le  sa,"  hummed  Laura ;  "  but  I  would  avoid 
quoting  you  as  that  authority." 

"  After  your  last  miserable  fiasco,  my  dear !" 

"  It  was  another  of  our  school  exercises.  We  had  not 
been  good  boys  and  girls.  We  had  learnt  our  lesson  imper- 
fectly. We  have  received  our  punishment,  and  we  mean  to 
do  better  next  time." 

"  Behave  seasonably,  fittingly ;  be  less  of  a  wasp  ;  school 
your  tongue." 

"  Bianca  is  a  pattern  to  me,  I  am  aware,"  said  Laura. 


THE  ESCAPE  OP  ANGELO.  281 

*'  She  is  a  good  -svife." 

"  I  am  a  poor  widow." 

"  She  is  a  good  dauglitor.'* 

"  I  am  a  wicked  rebel." 

"  And  you  are  scheming  at  something  note"  said  the  little 
nobleman,  sagacious  so  far ;  but  he  was  too  eager  to  read  the 
verification  of  the  tentative  remark  in  her  face,  and  she  per- 
ceived that  it  was  a  guess  founded  on  her  show  of  spirit. 

"  Scheming  to  contain  my  temper,  which  is  much  tried," 
she  said.  "  But  I  suppose  it  supports  me.  I  can  always 
keep  up  against  hostility." 

"  You  provoke  it ;  you  provoke  it." 

•'  My  instinct,  then,  divines  my  medicine." 

**  Exactly,  my  dear ;  your  personal  instinct.  That  insti- 
gates you  all.  And  none  are  so  easily  conciliated  as  these 
Austrians.  Conciliate  them,  and  you  have  them."  Count 
Serabiglione  diverged  into  a  repetition  of  his  theory  of  the 
policy  and  mission  of  superior  intelligences,  as  regarded  his 
system  for  dealing  with  the  Austrians. 

Nurse  Assunta's  jealousy  was  worked  upon  to  separate  the 
children  from  Vittoria.  They  ran  down  with  her  no  more  to 
meet  the  vast  bowls  of  grapes  in  the  morning  and  feather 
their  hats  with  vine  leaves.  Deprived  of  her  darlings,  the 
lonelessness  of  her  days  made  her  look  to  Wilfrid  for  com- 
miseration. Father  Bernardus  was  too  continually  exhor- 
tative, and  fenced  too  much  to  "  hit  the  eyeball  of  her 
conscience,"  as  he  phrased  it,  to  afford  her  repose.  Wilfrid 
could  tell  himself  that  he  had  already  done  much  for  her ; 
for  if  what  he  had  done  were  known,  his  career,  social  and 
military,  was  ended.  This  idea  being  accompanied  by  a 
sense  of  security  delighted  him ;  he  was  accustomed  to 
inquire  of  Angelo's  condition,  and  praise  the  Bi'itish  doctor 
who  was  attending  him  gratuitously.  "  I  wish  I  could  get 
him  out  of  the  way,"  he  said,  and  frowned  as  in  a  mental 
sti'uggle.  Vittoria  heard  him  repeat  his  "  I  wish !"  It 
heightened  greatly  her  conception  of  the  sacrifice  he  would 
be  making  on  her  behalf  and  charity's.  She  spoke  with  a 
reverential  tenderness,  such  as  it  was  hard  to  suppose  a 
woman  capable  of  addressing  to  otlier  than  the  man  who 
moved  her  soul.  The  words  she  uttered  were  pure  thanks  ; 
it  was  the  tone  which  sent  them  winged  and  shaking  seed. 
She  had  spoken  partly  to  prompt  his  activity,  but  her  self- 


282  TITTORIA. 

respect  had  been  sustained  by  bis  avoidance  of  the  dreaded 
old  themes,  and  that  grateful  feeling  made  her  voice  musi- 
cally rich. 

"  I  dare  not  go  to  him,  but  the  doctor  tells  me  the  fester 
has  left  him,  Wilfrid ;  his  wounds  are  healing ;  but  he  is 
bandaged  from  head  to  foot.  The  sword  pierced  his  side 
twice,  and  his  arms  and  hands  are  cut  horribly.  He  cannot 
yet  walk.  If  he  is  discovered  he  is  lost.  Count  Lenken- 
stein  has  declared  that  he  will  stay  at  the  castle  till  he  has 
him  his  prisoner.  The  soldiers  are  all  round  us.  They 
know  that  Angelo  is  in  the  ring.  They  have  traced  him  all 
over  from  the  Valtollina  to  this  tJltenthal,  and  only  cannot 
guess  where  he  is  in  the  lion's  jaw.  I  rise  in  the  morning, 
thinking  '  Is  this  to  be  the  black  day  ?'  He  is  sure  to  be 
caught." 

"  If  I  could  hit  on  a  plan,"  said  Wilfrid,  figuring  as 
though  he  had  a  diorama  of  impossible  schemes  revolving 
before  his  eyes. 

"  I  could  believe  in  the  actual  whispering  of  an  angel  if 
you  did.  It  was  to  guard  me  that  Angelo  put  himself  in 
peril." 

"  Then,"  said  Wilfrid,  "  I  am  his  debtor.  I  owe  him  as 
much  as  my  life  is  worth." 

"  Think,  think,"  she  urged ;  and  promised  affection,  devo- 
tion, veneration,  vague  things,  that  were  too  like  his  own 
sentiments  to  prompt  him  pointedly.  Tet  he  so  pledged 
himself  to  her  by  word,  and  prepared  his  own  mind  to  con- 
ceive the  act  of  service,  that  (as  he  did  not  reflect)  circum- 
stance might  at  any  moment  plunge  him  into  a  gulf.  Con- 
duct of  this  sort  is  a  challenge  sure  to  be  answered. 

One  morning  Vittoria  was  gladdened  by  a  letter  from 
Rocco  Ricci,  who  had  fled  to  Turin.  He  told  her  that  the 
king  had  promised  to  give  her  a  warm  welcome  in  his 
capital,  where  her  name  was  famous.  She  consulted  with 
Laura,  and  they  resolved  to  go  as  soon  as  Angelo  could 
stand  on  his  feet.  Turin  was  cold  Italy,  but  it  was  Italy ; 
and  from  Turin  the  Italian  army  was  to  flow,  like  the 
Mincio  from  the  Garda  lake.  "  AJad  there,  too,  is  a  stage," 
Vittoria  thought,  in  a  suddenly  revived  thirst  for  the  stage 
and  a  field  for  work.  She  determined  to  run  down  to  Meran 
and  see  Angelo.  Laura  walked  a  little  way  with  her,  till 
Wilfrid,  alert   for   these    occasions,  joined  them.     On   the 


THE  ESCAPE  OP  ANQELO.  283 

commencement  of  tlie  zig-zag  below,  there  were  soldiers,  the 
sight  of  whom  was  not  confusing.  Military  messengers 
fi-eqiiently  came  up  to  the  castle  where  Count  Lenkenstein, 
assisted  by  Count  Serabiglione,  examined  their  depositions, 
the  Italian  in  the  manner  of  a  winding  lawyer,  the  German 
of  a  gruif  judge.  Half  way  down  the  zig-zag  Vittoria  cast 
a  preconcei'ted  signal  back  to  Laura.  The  soldiers  had  a 
pair  of  prisoners  between  their  ranks  ;  Vittoria  recognized 
the  men  who  had  carried  Captain  Weisspriess  from  the 
ground  where  the  duel  was  fought.  A  quick  divination  told 
her  that  they  held  Angelo's  life  on  their  tongues.  They 
must  have  found  him  in  the  mountain-pass  while  hurrying 
to  their  homes,  and  it  was  they  who  had  led  him  to  Meran. 
On  the  Passeyr  bridge,  she  turned  and  said  to  Wilfrid, 
*'  Help  me  now.  Send  instantly  the  doctor  in  a  carriage  to 
the  place  where  he  is  lying." 

"Wilfrid  was  intent  on  her  flushed  beauty  and  the  half- 
compressed  quiver  of  her  lip. 

She  quitted  him  and  hurried  to  Angelo.  Her  joy  broke 
out  in  a  cry  of  thankfulness  at  sight  of  Angelo  ;  he  had 
risen  fi'om  his  bed  ;  he  could  stand,  and  he  smiled. 

"  That  Jacopo  is  just  now  the  nearest  link  to  me,"  he 
said,  when  she  related  her  having  seen  the  two  men  guarded 
by  soldiers  ;  he  felt  helpless,  and  spoke  in  resignation.  She 
followed  his  eye  about  the  room  till  it  rested  on  the  stilet. 
This  she  handed  to  him.  "  If  they  think  of  having  me 
alive  !"  he  said  softly.  The  Italian  and  his  wife  who  had 
given  him  shelter  and  nursed  him  came  in,  and  approved 
his  going,  though  they  did  not  complain  of  what  they  might 
chance  to  have  incurred.  He  offered  them  his  purse,  and 
they  took  it.  Minutes  of  grievous  expectation  went  by  ; 
Vittoria  could  endure  them  no  longer ;  she  ran  out  to  the 
hotel,  near  which,  in  the  shade  of  a  poplar,  Wilfrid  was 
smoking  quietly.  He  informed  her  that  his  sister  and  tho 
doctor  had  driven  out  to  meet  Captain  Gambler  ;  his  brother- 
in-law  was  alone  upstairs.  Her  look  of  amazement  touched 
him  more  shrewdly  than  scorn,  and  he  said,  "What  on 
earth  can  I  do  H" 

"  Order  out  a  carriage.     Send  your  brother-in-law  in  it. 
If  you  tell  him  '  for  your  health,'  he  will  go." 

"  On  my  honour,  I  don't  know  where  those  three  words 
would  not  send  him,"  said  Wilfrid;  but  ho  did  not  move. 


284  TITTORIA. 

and  was  for  protesting  that  lie  really  conld  not  gness  what 
was  the  matter,  and  the  ground  for  all  this  urgency. 

_  Vittoria  compelled  her  angry  lips  to  speak  out  her  sus- 
picions explicitly,  whei^eupon  he  glanced  at  the  sun-glare  in 
a  meditation,  occasionally  blinking  his  eyes.  She  thought, 
"  Oh,  heaven  !  can  he  be  waiting  for  me  to  coax  him  ?"^  It 
was  the  truth,  though  it  would  have  been  strange  to  him  to 
have  heard  it.  She  grew  sure  that  it  was  the  truth ;  never 
had  she  despised  living  creature  so  utterly  as  when  she 
murmured,  "My  best  friend!  my  brother!  my  noble 
Wilfrid !  my  old  beloved !  help  me  now,  without  loss  of  a 
minute." 

It  caused  his  breath  to  come  and  go  unevenly. 

"  Repeat  that — once,  only  once,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  with  the  sorrowful  earnestness  which, 
as  its  meaning  was  shut  from  him,  was  so  sweet. 

"  You  will  repeat  it  by-and-by  ? — another  time  ?  Trust 
me  to  do  my  utmost.  Old  beloved !  What  is  the  meaning 
of  '  old  beloved  '  ?  One  word  in  explanation.  If  it  means 
anything,  I  would  die  for  you  !  Emilia,  do  you  hear  ? — die 
for  you  !  To  me  you  are  nothing  old  or  bygone,  whatever  I 
may  be  to  you.  To  me — yes,  I  will  order  the  carriage — you 
are  the  Emilia — listen  !  listen !  Ah  !  you  have  shut  your 
ears  against  me.  I  am  bound  in  all  seeming,  but  I — you  drive 
me  mad ;  you  know  your  power.  Speak  one  word,  that  I 
may  feel — that  I  may  be  convinced  ...  or  not  a  single 
word  ;  I  will  obey  you  without.  I  have  said  that  you  com- 
mand my  life." 

In  a  block  of  carriages  on  the  bridge,  Vittoria  perceived  a 
lifted  hand.  It  was  Laura's  ;  Beppo  was  in  attendance  on 
her.  Laura  drove  up  and  said  :  "  You  guessed  right ;  where 
is  he  ?"  The  communications  between  them  were  more 
indicated  than  spoken.  Beppo  had  heard  Jacopo  confess  to 
his  having  conducted  a  wounded  Italian  gentleman  into 
Meran.  "  That  means  that  the  houses  will  be  searched 
within  an  hour,"  said  Laura ;  "  my  brother-in-law  Bear  is 
radiant."  She  mimicked  the  Lenkenstein  physiognomy 
spontaneously  in  the  run  of  her  speech.  "  If  Angelo  can 
help  himself  ever  so  little,  he  has  a  fair  start."  A  look  was 
cast  on  Wilfrid ;  Vittoria  nodded — Wilfrid  was  entrapped. 

_ "  Englishmen  we  can  trust,"  said  Laura,  and  requested 
him  to  step  into  her  carriage.     He  glanced  round  the  open 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  ANGELO.  285 

Bpace.  Beppo  did  the  same,  and  beheld  the  chasseur  Jacob 
Baumwalder  Feckelwitz  crossing  the  bridge  on  foot,  but  he 
said  nothing.  Wilfrid  was  on  the  step  of  the  carriage,  for 
what  positive  object  neither  he  nor  the  others  knew,  when 
his  sister  and  the  doctor  joined  them.  Captain  Gambier  was 
still  missing. 

"  He  would  have  done  anything  for  us,"  Vittoria  said  in 
Wilfrid's  hearing. 

"  Tell  us  what  plan  you  have,"  the  latter  replied  fretfully. 

She  whispered  :  "  Persuade  Adela  to  make  her  husband 
drive  out.  The  doctor  will  go  too,  and  Beppo.  They  shall 
take  Angelo.  Our  carriage  will  follow  empty,  and  bring 
Mr.  Sedley  back." 

Wilfrid  cast  his  eyes  up  in  the  air,  at  the  monstrous 
impudence  of  the  project.  "  A  storm  is  coming  on,"  he 
suggested,  to  divert  her  reading  of  his  grimace  ;  but  she 
was  speaking  to  the  doctor,  who  readily  answered  her 
aloud  :  "  If  you  are  certain  of  what  you  say."  The  remark 
incited  Wilfrid  to  be  no  subordinate  in  devotion ;  handing 
Adela  from  the  carriage,  while  the  doctor  ran  up  to  Mr. 
Sedley,  he  drew  her  aAvay.  Laura  and  Vittoria  watched  the 
motion  of  their  eyes  and  lips. 

"Will  he  tell  her  the  purpose  ?"  said  Laura. 

Vittoria  smiled  nervously  :  "  He  is  fibbing." 

Marking  the  energy  expended  by  Wilfrid  in  this  art,  the 
wiser  woman  said  :  "  Be  on  your  guard  the  next  two  minutes 
he  gets  you  alone." 

"  You  see  his  devotion." 

"  Does  he  see  his  compensation  ?  But  he  must  help  us  at 
any  hazard." 

Adela  broke  away  from  her  brother  twice,  and  each  time 
he  fixed  her  to  the  spot  more  imperiously.  At  last  she  ran 
into  the  hotel ;  she  was  crying.  "  A  bad  economy  of  tears," 
said  Laura,  commenting  on  the  dumb  scene,  to  soothe  her 
savage  impatience.  "  In  another  twenty  minutes  we  shall 
have  the  city  gates  locked." 

They  heard  a  window  thrown  up  ;  Mr.  Sedley's  head 
came  out,  and  peered  at  the  sky.  Wilfrid  said  to  Vittoria: 
*'  I  can  do  nothing  beyond  what  I  have  done,  I  fear." 

She  thought  it  was  a  petition  for  thanks,  but  Laura  knew 
better  ;  she  said  :  "  I  see  Count  Lenkonstein  on  his  way  to 
the  barracks." 


2S6  VITTORIA. 

Wilfrid  bowed  :   "  I  may  be  able  to  serve  you  in  tliat 

quarter." 

He  retired :  whereupon  Laura  inquired  bow  ber  friend 
could  reasonably  suppose  that  a  man  would  ever  endui'e 
being  thanked  in  public. 

"  I  shall  never  understand  and  never  care  to  understand 
them,"  said  Vittoria. 

"  It  is  a  knowledge  that  is  forced  on  us,  my  dear.  May 
heaven  make  the  minds  of  our  enemies  stupid  for  the  next 
five  houi"s ! — Apropos  of  what  I  was  saying,  women  and  men 
are  in  two  hostile  camps.  We  have  a  sort  of  general  armis- 
tice and  everlasting  strife  of  individuals — Ah  !"  she  clapped 
hands  on  her  knees,  "  here  comes  your  doctor ;  I  could  fancy 
I  see  a  pointed  light  on  his  head.  Men  of  science,  my 
Sandra,  are  always  the  humanest." 

The  chill  air  of  wind  preceding  thunder  was  driving  round 
the  head  of  the  vale,  and  Mr.  Sedley,  wrapped  in  furs,  and 
feebly  remonstrating  with  his  medical  adviser,  stepped  into 
his  carriage.  The  doctor  followed  him,  giving  a  grave 
recognition  of  Yittoria's  gaze.  Both  gentlemen  raised  their 
hats  to  the  ladies,  who  alighted  as  soon  as  they  had  gone  in 
the  direction  of  the  Vintschgau  road. 

"  One  has  only  to  furnish  you  with  money,  my  Beppo," 
said  Vittoria,  complimenting  his  quick  apprehensiveness. 
"  Buy  bread  and  cakes  at  one  of  the  shops,  and  buy  wine. 
You  will  find  me  where  you  can,  when  you  have  seen  him  safe. 
I  have  no  idea  of  where  my  home  will  be.     Perhaps  England." 

"  Italy,  Italy  !  faint  heart,"  said  Laura. 

Furnished  with  money,  Beppo  rolled  away  gaily. 

The  doubt  was  in  Laura  whether  an  Englishman's  wits 
were  to  be  relied  on  in  such  an  emergency ;  but  she  admitted 
that  the  doctor  had  looked  full  enough  of  serious  meaning, 
and  that  the  Englishman  named  Merthyr  Powys  was  keen 
and  ready.  They  sat  a  long  half-hour,  that  thumped  itself 
out  like  an  alarm-bell,  under  the  poplars,  by  the  clamouring 
Passeyr,  watching  the  roll  and  spring  of  the  waters,  and  the 
radiant  foam,  while  band-music  played  to  a  great  company 
of  visitors,  and  sounds  of  thunder  drew  near.  Over  the 
mountains  above  the  Adige,  the  leaden  fingers  of  an  advance 
of  the  thunder-cloud  pushed  slowly,  and  on  a  sudden  a 
mighty  gale  sat  heaped  black  on  the  mountain-top  and  blew. 
Down  went  the  heads  of  the  poplars,  the  river  staggered  in 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  AWGELO.  287 

its  leap,  tTie  vale  was  slmdc'ermg  grej.  It  was  like  the 
transformation  in  a  fairy  tale  ;  Beauty  had  taken  her  old 
cloak  about  her,  and  bent  to  calamity.  The  poplars  streamed 
their  length  sideways,  and  in  the  pauses  of  the  strenuoug 
wind  nodded  and  dashed  wildly  and  white  over  the  dead 
black  water,  that  waxed  in  foam  and  hissed,  showing  its 
teeth  like  a  beast  enraged.  Laura  and  Vittoria  joined  hands 
and  struggled  for  shelter.  The  tent  of  a  travelling  circus 
from  the  South,  newly-pitched  on  a  grass-plot  near  the  river, 
was  caught  up  and  whirled  in  the  air  and  flung  in  the  face 
of  a  marching  guard  of  soldiery,  whom  it  swathed  and  bore 
sheer  to  earth,  while  on  them  and  around  them  a  line  of 
po])lars  fell  flat,  the  wind  whistling  over  them.  Laura 
directed  Vittoria's  eyes  to  the  sight.  "  See,"  she  said,  and 
her  face  was  set  hard  with  cold  a-nd  excitement,  so  that  she 
looked  a  witch  in  the  upi-oar ;  "  would  you  not  say  the  devil 
is  loose  now  Angelo  is  abroad  ?"  Thunder  and  lisrhtning' 
possessed  the  vale,  and  then  a  vertical  rain.  At  the  first 
gleam  of  sunlight,  Laura  and  Vittoria  walked  up  to  the 
Laubengasse — the  street  of  the  arcades,  where  they  made 
purchases  of  numerous  needless  articles,  not  daring  to  enter 
the  Italian's  shop.  A  woman  at  a  fruit-stall  opposite  to  it 
told  them  that  no  carriage  could  have  driven  up  there. 
During  their  great  perplexity,  mud  and  rain-stained  soldiers, 
the  same  whom  they  had  seen  borne  to  earth  by  the  flying 
cui'tain,  marched  before  the  shop  ;  the  shop  and  the  house 
were  searched ;  the  Italian  and  his  old  limping  wife  were 
earned  away. 

"  Tell  me  now,  that  storm  was  not  Angelo's  friend!"  Laura 
muttered. 

"  Can  he  have  escaped  ?"  said  Vittoria. 

"  He  is  '  on  horseback.'  "  Laura  quoted  the  Italian  pro- 
verb to  signify  that  he  had  flown ;  how,  she  could  not  say, 
and  none  could  inform  her.  The  joy  of  their  hearts  rose  in 
one  fountain. 

"  I  shall  feel  better  blood  in  my  body  from  this  moment," 
Laura  said ;  and  Vittoria,  "  Oh !  we  can  be  strong,  if  wa 
only  resolve." 

"  You  want  to  sing  ?" 

"Ido." 

"  I  shall  find  pleasure  in  your  voice  now." 

"  The  wicked  voice  !" 


288  VITTOEIA. 

*'  Yes,  tte  very  wicTced  voice  !     But  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear 
it.     You  can  sing  to-night,  and  drown  those  Lenkensteins." 

"  If  my  Carlo  could  hear  me  !" 

"  Ah  !"  sighed  the  signora,  musing.  "  He  is  in  prison 
now.  I  remember  him,  the  dearest  little  lad,  fencing  with 
my  husband  for  exercise  after  they  had  been  writing  all  day. 
When  Giacomo  was  imprisoned,  Cai'lo  sat  outside  the  prison 
walls  till  it  was  time  for  him  to  enter ;  his  chin  and  upper 
lip  were  smooth  as  a  girl's.  Giacomo  said  to  him,  '  May  you 
always  have  the  power  of  going  out,  or  not  have  a  wife  wait- 
ing for  you.'  Here  they  come."  (She  spoke  of  tears.)  "  It's 
because  I  am  joyful.  The  channel  for  them  has  grown  so 
dry  that  they  prick  and  sting.  Oh,  Sandra !  it  would  bo 
pleasant  to  me  if  we  might  both  be  buried  for  seven  days, 
and  have  one  long  howl  of  weakness  together.  A  little  bite 
of  satisfaction  makes  me  so  tired.  I  believe  there's  some- 
thing very  bad  for  us  in  our  always  being  at  war,  and  never, 
never  gaining  ground.  Just  one  spark  of  triumph  intoxi- 
cates us.  Look  at  all  those  people  pouring  out  again.  They 
are  the  children  of  fair  weather.  I  hope  the  state  of  their 
health  does  not  trouble  them  too  much.  Vienna  sends  con- 
sumptive patients  here.  If  you  regard  them  attentively, 
you  will  observe  that  they  have  an  anxious  ear.  Their  con- 
stitutions arc  not  sound  ;  they  fear  they  may  die." 

Laura's  irony  was  unforced  ;  it  was  no  more  than  a  subtle 
discord  naturally  struck  from  the  scene  by  a  soul  in  contrast 
with  it. 

They  beheld  the  riding  forth  of  troopers  and  a  knot  o£ 
officers  hotly  conversing  together.  At  another  point  the 
duchess  and  the  Lenkenstein  ladies.  Count  Lenkenstein,  Count 
Serabiglione,  and  Wilfrid  paced  up  and  down,  waiting  for 
music.  Laura  left  the  public  places  and  crossed  an  upper 
bridge  over  the  Passeyr,  near  the  castle,  by  which  route  she 
skirted  vines  and  dropped  over  sloping  meadows  to  some 
shaded  boulders  where  the  Passeyr  found  a  sandy  bay,  and 
leaped  in  transparent  green,  and  whitened  and  swung  twist- 
ing in  a  long  smooth  body  down  a  narrow  chasm,  and  noised 
below.  The  thundering  torrent  stilled  their  sensations:  and 
the  water,  making  battle  against  great  blocks  of  porphyry 
and  granite,  caught  their  thoughts.  So  strong  was  the  im- 
pression of  it  on  Vittoria's  mind,  that  for  hours  after,  every 
image  she  conceived  seemed  proper  to  the  inrush  and  outpour; 


THE  ESCAPE  OP  ANGELO.  289 

the  elbowing-,  the  tossing,  the  foaming,  the  bnrst  on  stones, 
and  silvery  bubbles  nnder  and  silvery  canopy  above,  the  chat- 
tering and  huzzaing ;  all  working  on  to  the  one-toned  fall 
beneath  the  rainbow  on  the  castle-rock. 

Next  day,  the  chasseur  Jacob  Baumwalder  Feckelwitz 
deposed  in  full  company  at  Sonnenberg,  that,  obeying  Count 
Serabiglione's  instructions,  he  had  gone  down  to  the  city,  and 
had  there  seen  Lieutenant  Pierson  with  the  ladies  in  front  of 
the  hotel;  he  had  followed  the  English  carriage,  which  took 
up  a  man  who  was  standing  ready  on  crutches  at  the  corner 
of  the  Laubengasse,  and  drove  rapidly  out  of  the  North- 
western gate,  leading  to  Schlanders  and  Mais  and  the  Enga- 
dine.  He  had  witnessed  the  transfer  of  the  crippled  man 
from  one  carriage  to  another,  and  had  raised  shouts  and 
given  hue  and  cry,  but  the  intervention  of  the  storm  had 
stopped  his  pursuit. 

He  was  proceeding  to  say  what  his  suppositions  were. 
Count  Lenkenstein  lifted  his  finger  for  Wilfrid  to  follow  him 
out  of  the  room.  Count  Serabiglione  went  at  their  heels. 
Then  Count  Lenkenstein  sent  for  his  wife,  whom  Anna  and 
Lena  accompanied. 

"  How  many  persons  are  you  going  to  ruin  in  the  course 
of  your  crusade,  my  dear  ?"  the  duchess  said  to  Laura. 

"  Dearest,  I  am  penitent  when  I  succeed,"  said  Laura. 

"  If  that  young  man  has  been  assisting  you,  he  is  irretriev- 
ably ruined." 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  for  him." 

"  As  for  me,  the  lectures  I  shall  get  in  Vienna  are  terrible 
to  think  of.  This  is  the  consequence  of  being  the  friend  of 
both  parties,  and  a  peace-maker." 

Count  Serabiglione  returned  alone  from  the  scene  at  the 
examination,  rubbing  his  hands  and  nodding  affably  to  his 
daughter.  He  maliciously  declined  to  gratify  the  monster 
of  feminine  curiosity  in  the  lump,  and  doled  out  the  scene 
piecemeal.  He  might  state,  he  observed,  that  it  was  he  who 
had  lured  Beppo  to  listen  at  the  door  during  the  examination 
of  the  prisoners ;  and  who  had  then  planted  a  spy  on  him — 
following  the  dictation  of  pi^ecopts  exceedingly  old.  "  We 
are  generally  beaten,  duchess  ;  I  admit  it ;  and  yet  we  gene- 
rally contrive  to  show  the  brains.  As  I  say,  wed  brains  to 
brute  force ! — but  my  Laura  prefers  to  bring  about  a  contest 
instead  of  an  union,  so  that  soineliody  is  certain  to  be  struck, 

II 


290  VITTORIA. 

and  " — the  count  spread  out  his  arms  and  bowed  his  head— 
"  deserves  the  blow."  He  informed  them  that  Count  Len- 
kenstein  had  ordered  Lieutenant  Pierson  down  to  Meran,  and 
that  the  lieutenant  might  expect  to  be  cashiered  within  five 
days.  "  "What  does  it  matter  ?"  he  addressed  Vittoria.  "It 
is  but  a  shuffling  of  victims ;  Lieutenant  Pierson  in  the  place 
of  Guidascarpi !  I  do  not  object." 

Count  Lenkenstein  withdrew  his  wife  and  sisters  from 
Sonnenberg  instantly.  He  sent  an  angry  message  of  adieu 
to  the  duchess,  informing  her  that  he  alone  was  responsible 
for  the  behaviour  of  the  ladies  of  his  family.  The  poor 
duchess  wept.  "  This  means  that  I  shall  be  summoned  to 
Vienna  for  a  scolding,  and  have  to  meet  my  husband,"  she 
said  to  Laura,  who  permitted  herself  to  be  fondled,  and  barely 
veiled  her  exultation  in  her  apology  for  the  mischief  she  had 
done.  An  hour  after  the  departure  of  the  Lenkensteins,  the 
castle  was  again  officially  visited  by  Colonel  Zofel.  Vittoria 
and  Laura  received  an  order  to  quit  the  district  of  Meran 
before  sunset.  The  two  firebrands  dropped  no  tears.  "  I 
really  am  sorry  for  others  when  I  succeed,"  said  Laura,  trying 
to  look  sad  upon  her  friend. 

"  No ;  the  heart  is  eaten  out  of  you  both  by  excitement," 
said  the  duchess. 

Her  tender  parting,  "  Love  me,"  in  the  ear  of  Vittoria, 
melted  one  heart  of  the  two. 

Count  Serabiglione  continued  to  be  buoyed  up  by  his  own 
and  his  daughter's  recent  display  of  a  superior  intellectual 
dexterity  until  the  carriage  was  at  the  door  and  Laura  pre- 
sented her  cheek  to  him.  He  said,  "  You  will  know  me  a 
wise  man  when  I  am  off  the  table."  His  gesticulations 
expressed  "  Ruin,  headlong  ruin  !"  He  asked  her  how  she 
could  expect  him  to  be  for  ever  repairing  her  follies.  He 
was  going  to  Vienna ;  how  could  he  dare  to  mention  her 
name  there  ?  Not  even  in  a  trifle  would  she  consent  to  be 
subordinate  to  authority.  Laura  checked  her  replies — the 
surrendering  of  a  noble  Italian  life  to  the  Austrians  was 
such  a  trifle  !  She  begged  only  that  a  poor  wanderer  might 
depart  with  a  father's  blessing.  The  count  refused  to  give 
it ;  he  waved  her  off  in  a  fury  of  reproof  ;  and  so  got  smoothly 
over  the  fatal  moment  when  money,  or  the  promise  of  money, 
is  commonly  extracted  from  parental  sources,  as  Laura  ex- 
plained his  odd  behaviour  to  her  companion.     The  carriage- 


THE  ESCAPE  OP  ANQELO.  291 

door  being  closed,  he  regained  his  courtly  composure ;  his 
fury  was  displaced  by  a  chiding  finger,  which  he  presently 
kissed.  Father  Bernardns  was  on  the  steps  beside  the 
duchess,  and  his  blessing  had  not  been  withheld  from  Vittoria, 
though  he  half  confessed  to  her  that  she  was  a  mystery  in 
his  mind,  and  would  always  be  one. 

"  He  can  understand  I'obust  hostility,"  Laura  said,  when 
Vittoria  recalled  the  look  of  his  benevolent  forehead  and 
drooping  eyelids  ;  "  but  robust  ductility  does  astonish  him. 
He  has  not  meddled  with  me ;  yet  I  am  the  one  of  the  two 
who  would  be  fair  prey  for  an  enterprising  spiritual  father, 
as  the  destined  man  of  heaven  will  find  out  some  day." 

She  bent  and  smote  her  lap.  "How  little  they  know  us, 
my  darling !  They  take  fever  for  strength,  and  calmness 
for  submission.  Here  is  the  world  before  us,  and  I  feel  that 
such  a  man,  were  he  to  pounce  on  me  now,  might  snap  me 
up  and  lock  me  in  a  praying-box  with  small  difliculty.  And 
I  am  the  inveterate  rebel !  What  is  it  nourishes  you  and 
keeps  you  always  aiming  straight  when  you  are  alone  ?  Once 
in  Turin,  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  myself.  Out  of  Italy  I  have 
a  terrible  craving  for  peace.  It  seems  here  as  if  I  must  lean 
down  to  him,  my  beloved,  who  has  left  me." 

Vittoria  was  in  alarm  lest  Wilfrid  should  accost  her  while 
Bhe  drove  from  gate  to  gate  of  the  city.  They  passed  under 
the  archway  of  the  gate  leading  up  to  Schloss  Tyrol,  and 
along  the  road  bordered  by  vines.  An  old  peasant  woman 
stopped  them  with  the  sig-nal  of  a  letter  in  her  hand.  "  Here 
it  is,"  said  Laura,  and  Vittoria  could  not  help  smiling  at  her 
shrewd  anticipation  of  it. 

"  May  I  follow  r 

Nothing  more  than  that  was  written. 

But  the  bearer  of  the  missive  had  been  provided  with  a 
lead  pencil  to  obtain  the  immediate  reply. 

"An  admirable  piece  of  foresight!"  Laura's  honest  ex- 
clamation burst  forth. 

Vittoria  had  to  look  in  Laura's  face  before  she  could  gather 
her  wall  to  do  the  cruel  thing  which  was  least  cruel.  She 
wrote  firmly : 

^^  Never  follow  me." 


u2 


^{^2  VITTOEIA. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

EPISODES  OF  THE  KEVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. 

THE  TOBACCO-EIOTS. — EINALDO  GUIDASCAEPI. 

Anna  von  Lenkenstein  was  one  who  could  wait  for  ven- 
geance. Lena  punished  on  the  spot,  and  punished  herself 
most.  She  broke  off  her  engagement  with  Wilfrid,  while 
at  the  same  time  she  caused  a  secret  message  to  be  conveyed 
to  him,  telling  him  that  the  prolongation  of  his  residence  in 
Meran  would  restore  him  to  his  position  in  the  army. 

Wilfrid  remained  at  Meran  till  the  last  days  of  December. 

It  was  winter  in  Milan,  turning  to  the  new  year — the  year 

of  flames    for  continental   Europe.     A  young  man   with   a 

military    stride,    but  out  of  uniform,   had  stepped  from  a 

travelling  carriage  and  entered  a  cigar-shop.     Upon  calling 

for  cigars,  he  was  surprised  to  observe  the  woman  who  was 

serving  there  keep  her  arms  under  her  apron.     She  cast  a 

look  into  the  street,  where  a  crowd  of  boys  and  one  or  two  lean 

men  had  gathered  about  the  door.     After  some  delay,   she 

entreated  her  customer  to  let  her  pluck  his  cloak  half-way 

over  the  counter ;  at  the  same  time  she  thrust  a  cigar-box 

under  that  concealment,  together  with  a  printed  song  in  the 

Milanese  dialect.     He  lifted  the  paper  to  read  it,  and  found 

it  tough  as  Russ.     She  translated  some  of  the  more  salient 

couplets.     Tobacco  had  become  a  dead  business,  she  said, 

now  that  the  popular  edict  had  gone  forth  against  '  smoking 

gold  into  the  pockets  of  the  Tedeschi.'     None  smoked  except 

officers  and  Englishmen. 

"  I  am  an  Englishman,"  he  said. 

"  And  not  an  officer  ?  "  she  asked  ;  but  he  gave  no  answer. 
*'  Englishmen  are  rare  in  winter,  and  don't  like  being 
mobbed,"  said  the  woman. 

Nodding  to  her  urgent  petition,  he  deferred  the  lighting 
of  his  cigar.  The  vetturino  requested  him  to  jump  up 
quickly,  and  a  howl  of  "  No  smoking  in  Milan — fuori ! — 
down  with  tobacco-smokers  !"  beset  the  carriage.  He  tossed 
half-a-dozen  cigars  on  the  pavement  derisively.  They  were 
scrambled  for  as  when  a  pack  of  wolves  are  diverted  by  a 
garment  dropped  from  the  flying  sledge,  but  the  unluckier 
hands  came  afiox  his  heels  in  fuller  howl.     He  noticed  the 


THE  TOBACCO-RIOTS.  293 

sing-iilar  appearance  of  the  streets.  Bands  of  the  scum  of 
the  population  hung  at  vai-ious  points :  from  time  to  time  a 
shout  was  raised  at  a  distance,  "  Abasso  il  zigarro !"  and 
"  Awaj  with  the  cigar!"  went  an  organized  file-firing  of 
cries  along  the  open  place.  Several  gentlemen  were  mobbed, 
and  compelled  to  fling  the  cigars  from  their  teeth.  He  saw 
the  polizia  in  twos  and  threes  taking  counsel  and  shrugging, 
evidently  too  anxious  to  avoid  a  collision.  Austrian  soldiers 
and  subalterns  alone  smoked  freely  ;  they  puifed  the  harder 
when  the  yells  and  hootings  and  whistlings  thickened  at 
their  heels.  Sometimes  they  walked  on  at  their  own  pace  ; 
or,  when  the  noise  swelled  to  a  crisis,  turned  and  stood  fast, 
making  an  exhibition  of  curling  smoke,  as  a  mute  form  of 
contempt.  Then  commenced  bustlings  and  a  tremendous 
uproar ;  sabres  were  drawn,  the  whitecoats  planted  them- 
selves back  to  back.  Milan  was  clearly  in  a  condition  of 
raging  disease.  The  soldiery  not  only  accepted  the  chal- 
lenge of  the  mob,  but  assumed  the  offensive.  Here  and 
there  they  were  seen  crossing  the  street  to  puff  obnoxiously 
in  the  faces  of  people.  Numerous  subalterns  were  abroad, 
lively  for  strife,  and  bright  with  the  signal  of  their  readi- 
ness. An  icy  wind  blew  down  from  the  Alps,  whitening  the 
housetops  and  the  ways,  but  every  street,  corso,  and  piazza 
was  dense  with  loungers,  as  on  a  summer  evening ;  the 
clamour  of  a  skirmish  anywhere  attracted  streams  of  dis- 
ciplined rioters  on  all  sides  ;  it  was  the  holiday  of  rascals. 

Our  traveller  had  ordered  his  vetturino  to  drive  slowly  to 
his  hotel,  that  he  might  take  the  features  of  this  novel 
scene.  He  soon  showed  his  view  of  the  case  by  putting  an 
unlighted  cigar  in  his  mouth.  The  vetturino  noted  that  his 
conveyance  acted  as  a  kindling-match  to  awaken  cries  in 
quiet  quarters,  looked  round,  and  grinned  savagely  at  the 
sight  of  the  cigar. 

"  Drop  it,  or  I  drop  you,"  he  said ;  and  hearing  the  com- 
mand to  drive  on,  pulled  up  short. 

They  were  in  a  narrow  way  leading  to  the  Piazza  de' 
Mercanti.  While  the  altercation  was  going  on  between 
them,  a  great  push  of  men  emerged  from  one  of  the  close 
courts  some  dozen  paces  ahead  of  the  horse,  bearing  forth  a 
single  young  oilicer  in  their  midst. 

"  Signore,  would  you  like  to  be  the  froth  of  a  boiling  of 
that  sort  ?"     The  vetturino  seized  the  image  at  once  to  strike 


294  VITTORIA. 

home  Lis  instance  of  the  danger  of  outraging  the  will  of  the 
people. 

Our  traveller  immediately  unlocked  a  case  that  lay  on 
the  seat  in  fi-ont  of  him,  and  drew  out  a  steel  scabbard,  from 
which  he  plucked  the  sword,  and  straightway  leaped  to  the 
ground.  The  officer's  cigar  had  been  dashed  from  his  mouth  : 
he  stood  at  bay,  sword  in  hand,  meeting  a  rush  with  a 
desperate  stroke.  The  assistance  of  a  second  swoi-d  got 
him  clear  of  the  fray.  Both  hastened  forward  as  the  crush 
melted  with  the  hiss  of  a  withdrawing  wave.  They  inter- 
changed exclamations : — 

"  Is  it  you,  Jenna  !" 

"  In  the  devil's  name,  Pierson,  have  you  come  to  keep  your 
appointment  in  mid- winter?" 

"  Come  on :  I'll  stick  beside  you." 

"On,  then!" 

They  glanced  behind  them,  heeding  little  the  tail  of 
ruffians  whom  they  had  silenced. 

"  We  shall  have  plenty  of  fighting  soon,  so  we'll  smoke  a 
cordial  cigar  together,"  said  Lieutenant  Jenna,  and  at  once 
struck  a  light  and  blazed  defiance  to  Milan  afresh — an 
example  that  was  necessarily  followed  by  his  comrade. 
"  What  has  happened  to  you,  Pierson  ?  Of  course,  I  knew 
you  were  ready  for  our  bit  of  play — though  you'll  hear  what 
I  said  of  you.  How  the  deuce  could  you  think  of  running 
off  with  that  opera  girl,  and  getting  a  fellow  in  the  moun- 
tains to  stab  our  merry  old  Weisspriess,  just  because  you 
fancied  he  was  going  to  slip  a  word  or  so  over  the  back  of 
his  hand  in  Countess  Lena's  ear  ?  No  wonder  she's  shy  of 
you  now." 

"  So,  that's  the  tale  afloat,"  said  Wilfrid.  *'  Come  to  my 
hotel  and  dine  with  me.  I  suppose  that  cur  has  driven  my 
luggage  there." 

Jenna  informed  him  that  officers  had  to  muster  in  barracks 
every  evening. 

"  Come  and  see  your  old  comrades ;  they'll  like  you  better 
in  bad  luck — there's  the  comfort  of  it :  hang  the  human 
nature  !  She's  a  good  old  brute,  if  you  don't  drive  her  hard. 
Our  regiment  left  Verona  in  November.  There  we  had 
tolerable  cookery  ;  come  and  take  the  best  we  can  give  you." 

But  this  invitation  WiKrid  had  to  decline. 

"  Why  ?"  said  Jenna. 


THE  TOBACCO-EIOTS.  295 

He  replied  :  "  IVe  stuck  at  Meran  three  montlis.  I  did 
it  in  obedience  to  what  I  understood  frona  Colonel  Zofel  to 
be  the  General's  orders.  When  I  was  as  perfectly  dry  as  a 
baked  Egyptian,  I  determined  to  believe  that  I  was  not  only 
in  disgrace,  but  dismissed  the  service.  I  posted  to  Botzen 
and  Riva,  on  to  Milan  ;  and  here  I  am.  The  least  I  can  do 
is  to  show  myself  here." 

"  Very  well,  then,  come  and  show  yourself  at  our  table," 
said  Jenna.  "  Listen  :  we'll  make  a  furious  row  after  supper, 
and  get  hauled  in  by  the  collar  before  the  General.  You 
can  swear  you  have  never  been  absent  from  duty  :  swear 
the  General  never  gave  you  foi^cible  furlough.  I'll  swear 
it ;  all  our  fellows  will  swear  it.  The  General  will  say, 
*  Oh  !  a  very  big  lie's  equal  to  a  truth  ;  big  brother  to  a  fact,' 
or  something ;  as  he  always  does,  you  know.  Face  it  out. 
"We  can't  spare  a  good  stout  sword  in  these  times.  On  with 
me,  my  Pierson." 

"  I  would,"  said  Wilfrid,  doubtfully. 

A  douse  of  water  from  a  window  extinguished  their  cigars. 

Lieutenant  Jenna  wiped  his  face  deliberately,  and  lighting 
another  cigar,  remarked — "  This  is  the  fifth  poor  devil  who 
has  come  to  an  untimely  end  within  an  hour.  It  is  brisk 
work.     Now,  I'll  swear  I'll  smoke  this  one  out." 

The  cigar  was  scattered  in  sparks  from  his  lips  by  a  hat 
skilfully  flung.  He  picked  it  up  miry  and  cleaned  it, 
observing  that  his  honour  was  pledged  to  this  fellow.  The 
hat  he  trampled  into  a  muddy  lump.  Wilfrid  found  it 
impossible  to  ape  his  coolness.  He  swung  about  for  an 
adversary.     Jenna  pulled  him  on. 

"  A  salute  from  a  window,"  he  said.  "  We  can't  storm 
the  houses.     The  time'U  come  for  it — and  then,  you  cats  !" 

Wilfrid  inquired  how  long  this  state  of  things  had  been 
going  on.  Jenna  replied  that  they  appeared  to  be  in  the 
middle  of  it ; — ^nearly  a  week.  Another  week,  and  their  day 
would  arrive  ;  and  then  ! 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  a  Count  Ammiani  hero  ?" 
said  Wilfrid. 

"  Oh  !  he's  one  of  the  lot,  I  believe.  We  have  him  fast, 
as  we'll  have  the  bundle  of  them.  Keep  eye  on  those  dogs 
behind  us,  and  manoGuvre  your  cigar.  The  plan  is,  to  give 
half-a-dozen  bright  pufis,  and  then  keep  it  in  your  fist ;  and 
when  you  see  an  Italian  head,  volcano  him  like  fury.     Yes, 


296  VITTORIA. 

I've  teard  of  ttat  Ammiani.  The  scoundrels  made  an 
attempt  to  get  him  out  of  prison — 1  fancy  he's  in  the  city 
prison — last  Friday  night.  I  don't  know  exactly  where  he 
is  ;  but  it's  pretty  fair  reckoning  to  say  that  he'll  enjoy  a 
large  slice  of  the  next  year  in  the  charming  solitude  of 
Spielberg,  if  Milan  is  restless.     Is  he  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  said  Wilfrid. 

"  Mio  prigione ! "  Jenna  mouthed  with  ineffable  con- 
temptuousness ;  "  he'll  have  time  to  write  his  memoirs,  as 
one  of  the  dogs  did.  I  remember  my  mother  crying  over 
the  book.  I  read  it  ?  Not  I !  I  never  read  books.  My 
father  said — the  stout  old  colonel — '  Prison  seems  to  make 
these  Italians  take  an  interest  in  themselves.'  '  Oh  !'  says 
my  mother,  '  why  can't  they  be  at  peace  with  us  ?'  '  That's 
exactly  the  question,'  says  my  father,  '  we're  always  putting 
to  them.'  And  so  I  say.  Why  can't  they  let  us  smoke  our 
cigars  in  peace  ?" 

Jenna  finished  by  assaulting  a  herd  of  faces  with  smoke. 

"  Pig  of  a  German !  "  was  shouted  ;  and  "  Porco,  porco," 
was  sung  in  a  scale  of  voices.  Jenna  received  a  blinding 
slap  across  the  eyes.  He  staggered  back ;  Wilfrid  slashed 
his  sword  in  defence  of  him.  He  struck  a  man  down. 
"  Blood  !  blood !"  cried  the  gathering  mob,  and  gave  space, 
but  hedged  the  couple  thickly.  Windows  were  thrown 
up  ;  forth  came  a  rain  of  household  projectiles  The  cry  of 
"  Blood  !  blood  !  "  was  repeated  by  numbers  pouring  on  them 
from  the  issues  to  right  and  left.  It  is  a  terrible  cry  in  a 
city.  In  a  city  of  the  South  it  rouses  the  wild  beast  in  men 
to  madness.  Jenna  smoked  triumphantly  and  blew  great 
clouds,  with  an  eye  aloft  for  the  stools,  basins,  chairs,  and 
water  descending.  They  were  in  the  middle  of  one  of  the 
close  streets  of  old  Milan.  The  man  felled  by  Wilfrid  was 
raised  on  strong  arms,  that  his  bleeding  head  might  be  seen 
of  all,  and  a  dreadful  hum  went  round.  A  fire  of  missiles, 
stones,  balls  of  wax,  lumps  of  dirt,  sticks  of  broken  chairs, 
began  to  play.  Wilfrid  had  a  sudden  gleam  of  the  face  of 
his  Verona  assailant.  He  and  Jenna  called  "  Follow  me,"  in 
one  breath,  and  drove  forward  with  sword-points,  which 
they  dashed  at  the  foremost ;  by  dint  of  swift  semi-circlings 
of  the  edges  they  got  through,  but  a  mighty  voice  of  com- 
mand thundered  ;  the  rearward  portion  of  the  mob  swung 
rapidly  to  the  front,  presenting  a  scattered  second  barrier ; 


EINALDO  GUIDASCAEPI.  297 

Jenna  tripped  on  a  fallen  body,  lost  his  cigar,  and  swore  that 
he  must  find  it.  A  dagger  struck  his  sword-arm.  He  stag- 
gered and  flourished  his  blade  in  the  air,  calling  "  On  !  " 
without  stirring.  "  This  infernal  cigar  !  "  he  said  ;  and  to 
the  mob,  "  What  mongrel  of  you  took  my  cigar  ?  "  Stones 
thumped  on  his  breast ;  the  barrier-line  ahead  grew  denser. 
"  I'll  go  at  them  first ;  you're  bleeding,"  said  Wilfrid.  They 
were  refreshed  by  the  sound  of  German  cheering,  as  in 
approach.  Jenna  uplifted  a  crow  of  the  regimental  hurrah 
of  the  charge ;  it  was  answered ;  on  they  went  and  got 
through  the  second  fence,  saw  their  comrades,  and  were 
running  to  meet  them,  when  a  weighted  ball  hit  Wilfrid 
on  the  back  of  the  head.  He  fell,  as  he  believed,  on  a 
cushion  of  down,  and  saw  thousands  of  saints  dancing  with 
lamps  along  cathedral  aisles. 

The  next  time  he  opened  his  eyes  he  fancied  he  had 
dropped  into  the  vaults  of  the  cathedral.  His  sensation  of 
sinking  was  so  vivid  that  he  feared  lest  he  should  be  going 
still  further  below.  There  was  a  lamp  in  the  chamber,  and 
a  young  man  sat  reading  by  the  light  of  the  lamp.  Vision 
danced  fantastically  on  Wilfrid's  brain.  He  saw  that  he 
rocked  as  in  a  ship,  yet  there  was  no  noise  of  the  sea; 
nothing  save  the  remote  thunder  haunting  empty  ears  at 
strain  for  sound.  He  looked  again  ;  the  young  man  was 
gone,  the  lamp  was  flickering.  Then  he  became  conscious  of 
a  strong  ray  on  his  eyelids ;  he  beheld  his  enemy  gazing 
down  on  him  and  swooned.  It  was  with  joy  that,  when  his 
wits  returned,  he  found  himself  looking  on  the  young  man 
by  the  lamp.  "  That  other  face  was  a  dream,"  he  thought, 
and  studied  the  aspect  of  the  young  man  with  the  unwearied 
attentiveness  of  partial  stupor,  that  can  note  accurately,  but 
cannot  deduce  from  its  noting,  and  is  invetei'ate  in  patience 
because  it  is  unideaed.     Memory  wakened  first. 

"  Guidascarpi !"  he  said  to  himself. 

The  name  was  uttered  half  aloud.  The  young  man  started 
and  closed  his  book. 

"  You  know  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"You  are  Guidascarpi  ?" 

« I  am." 

"  Guidascarpi,  I  think  I  helped  to  save  your  life  in 
Meran." 

The  young  man  stooped  over  him.     "  You  speak  of  my 


298  VITTORIA. 

brother  Angelo.  I  am  Rinaldo.  My  debt  to  yon  is  the 
same,  if  you  have  served  him." 

"Is  he  safe?" 

"  He  is  in  Lugano." 

*'  The  signorina  Vittoria  ?  ** 

"InTm-in." 

"Where  am  I?" 

The  reply  came  from  another  month  than  Rinaldo's, 

"  Ton  are  in  the  poor  lodging  of  the  shoemaker,  whose 
shoes,  if  yon  had  thought  fit  to  wear  them,  wonld  have  con- 
ducted yon  anywhere  but  to  this  place." 

"  Who  are  yon  ?  "  Wilfrid  moaned. 

"  Yon  ask  who  I  am.  I  am  the  Eye  of  Italy.  I  am  the 
Cat  who  sees  in  the  dark."  Barto  Rizzo  raised  the  lamp 
and  stood  at  his  feet.  "  Look  straight.  Yon  know  me,  I  think." 

Wilfrid  sighed,  "  Yes,  I  know  yon  ;  do  yonr  worst." 

His  head  throbbed  with  the  hearing  of  a  heavy  laugh,  as 
if  a  hammer  had  knocked  it.  What  ensued  he  knew  not ; 
he  was  left  to  his  rest.  He  lay  there  many  days  and  nights, 
that  were  marked  by  no  change  of  light ;  the  lamp  burned 
nnwe?ryingly.  Rinaldo  and  a  woman  tended  him.  The  sign 
of  his  reviving  strength  was  shown  by  a  complaint  he 
launched  at  the  earthy  smell  of  the  place. 

"  It  is  like  death,"  said  Rinaldo,  coming  to  his  side.  "I 
am  used  to  it,  and  familiar  with  death  too,"  he  added  in  a 
musical  undertone. 

"  Are  yon  also  a  prisoner  here  ?"  Wilfrid  questioned  him. 

"  I  am." 

"  The  brute  does  not  kill,  then  ?" 

"  No  ;  he  saves.  I  owe  my  life  to  him.  He  has  rescued 
yours." 

"Mine?"  said  Wilfrid. 

"  Yon  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  in  the  streets  but 
for  Barto  Rizzo." 

The  streets  were  the  world  above  to  Wilfrid  ;  he  was 
eager  to  hear  of  the  doings  in  them.  Rinaldo  told  him  that 
the  tobacco- war  raged  still  ;  the  soldiery  had  recently 
received  orders  to  smoke  abroad,  and  street  battles  were 
hourly  occurring.  "  They  call  this  government !"  he  inter- 
jected. 

He  was  a  soft- voiced  youth  ;  slim  and  tall  and  dark,  like 
Angelo,  but  with  a  more  studious  forehead.     The  book  he 


EINALDO  GUIDASCAEPI.  299 

was  constantly  reading  was  a  book  of  chemistry.  He  enter- 
tained Wilfrid  with  very  strange  talk.  He  spoke  of  the 
stars  and  of  a  destiny.  He  cited  certain  minor  events  of  his 
life  to  show  the  ground  of  his  present  belief  in  there  being 
a  vsritten  destiny  for  each  individual  man.  "  Angelo  and  I 
know  it  well.  It  was  revealed  to  us  when  we  were  boys. 
It  has  been  certified  to  us  up  to  this  moment.  Mark  what  I 
tell  you,"  he  pursued  in  a  devout  sincerity  of  manner  that 
baffled  remonstrance,  "m?/  days  end  with  this  new  year. 
His  end  with  the  year  following.     Our  house  is  dead." 

Wilfrid  pressed  his  hand.  "  Have  you  not  been  too  long 
underground  ?" 

"  That  is  the  conviction  I  am  coming  to.  But  when  I  go 
out  to  breathe  the  air  of  heaven,  I  go  to  my  fate.  Should  I 
hesitate  ?  We  Italians  of  this  period  are  children  of  thunder 
and  live  the  life  of  a  flash.  The  worms  may  creep  on :  the 
men  must  die.  Out  of  us  springs  a  better  world.  Romara, 
Ammiani,  Mercadesco,  Montesini,  Rufo,  Cardi,  whether  they 
see  it  or  not,  will  sweep  forward  to  it.  To  some  of  them, 
one  additional  day  of  breath  is  precious.  Not  so  for  Angelo 
and  me.  We  are  unbeloved.  We  have  neither  mother  nor 
sister,  nor  betrothed.  What  is  an  existence  that  can  fly  to 
no  human  arms  ?  I  have  been  too  long  underground, 
because,  while  I  continue  to  hide,  I  am  as  a  drawn  sword 
between  two  lovers." 

The  previous  mention  of  Ammiani's  name,  together  with 
the  knowledge  he  had  of  Ammiani's  relationship  to  the 
Guidascarpi,  pointed  an  instant  identification  of  these  lovers 
to  Wilfrid. 

He  asked  feverishly  who  they  were,  and  looked  his  best 
simplicity,  as  one  who  was  always  interested  by  stories  of 
lovers. 

The  voice  of  Barto  Rizzo,  singing  "  Vittoria !"  stopped 
Rinaldo's  reply :  but  Wilfrid  read  it  in  his  smile  at  that 
word.  He  was  too  weak  to  restrain  his  anguish,  and  flung 
on  the  couch  and  sobbed.  Rinaldo  supposed  that  he  was  in 
fear  of  Barto,  and  encouraocd  him  to  meet  the  man  confi- 
dently. A  lusty  "  Viva  I'ltalia  !  Vittoria!"  heralded  Barto's 
entrance.  "  My  boy !  my  noblest !  we  have  beaten  them — 
the  cravens  !  Tell  me  now — have  I  served  an  apprenticeship 
to  the  devil  for  nothing  ?  We  have  struck  the  cigars  out  of 
their  mouths  and  the  monopoly-money  out  of  their  pockets. 


300  VITTORIA. 

They  have  surrendered.  The  Imperial  order  prohibits 
soldiers  from  smoking  in  the  streets  of  Milan,  and  so 
throughout  Lombardy  !  Soon  we  will  have  the  prisons 
empty,  by  our  own  order.  Trouble  yourself  no  more  about 
Ammiani.  He  shall  come  out  to  the  sound  of  trumpets.  I 
hear  them !  Hither,  my  Rosellina,  my  plump  melon ;  up 
with  your  red  lips,  and  buss  me  a  Napoleon  salute — 
ha!  ha!" 

Barto's  wife  went  into  his  huge  arm,  and  submissively 
lifted  her  face.  He  kissed  her  like  a  barbaric  king,  laughing 
as  from  wine. 

Wilfrid  smothered  his  head  from  his  incarnate  thunder. 
He  was  unnoticed  by  Barto.  Presently  a  silence  told  him 
that  he  was  left  to  himself.  An  idea  possessed  him  that  the 
triumph  of  the  Italians  meant  the  release  of  Ammiani,  and 
his  release  the  loss  of  Vittoria  for  ever.  Since  her  graceless 
return  of  his  devotion  to  her  in  Meran,  something  like  a 
passion — arising  from  the  sole  spring  by  which  he  could  be 
excited  to  conceive  a  passion — had  filled  his  heart.  He  was 
one  of  those  who  delight  to  dally  with  gentleness  and  faith, 
as  with  things  that  are  their  heritage  ;  but  the  mere  sus- 
picion of  coquettry  and  indifference  plunged  him  into  a  fury 
of  jealous  wrathfulness,  and  tossed  so  desireable  an  image  of 
beauty  before  him  that  his  mad  thirst  to  embrace  it  seemed 
love.  By  our  manner  of  loving  we  are  known.  He  thought 
it  no  meanness  to  escape  and  cause  a  warning  to  be  conveyed 
to  the  Government  that  there  was  another  attempt  brewing 
for  the  rescue  of  Count  Ammiani.  Acting  forthwith  on  the 
hot  impulse,  he  seized  the  lamp.  The  door  was  unlocked. 
Luckier  than  Luigi  had  been,  he  found  a  ladder  outside,  and 
a  square  opening  through  which  he  crawled ;  continuing  to 
ascend  along  close  passages  and  up  narrow  flights  of  stairs, 
that  appeared  to  him  to  be  fashioned  to  avoid  the  rooms  of 
the  house.  At  last  he  pushed  a  door,  and  found  himself  in 
an  armoury,  among  stands  of  muskets,  swords,  bayonets, 
cartouche-boxes,  and,  most  singular  of  all,  though  he  ob- 
served them  last,  small  brass  pieces  of  cannon,  shining  with 
polish.  Shot  was  piled  in  pyramids  beneath  their  mouths. 
He  examined  the  guns  admiringly.  There  were  rows  of 
daggers  along  shelves ;  some  in  sheath,  others  bare ;  one 
that  had  been  hastily  wiped  showed  a  smear  of  ropy  blood. 
He  stood  debating  whether  he  should  seize  a  sword  for  his 


EINALDO  GUIDASCAEPI.  301 

protection.  In  the  act  of  trying  its  temper  on  tlie  floor,  the 
sword-hilt  was  knocked  from  his  hand,  and  he  felt  a  coil  of 
arms  around  him.  He  was  in  the  imprisoning  embi'ace  of 
Barto  Rizzo's  wife.  His  first,  and  perhaps  natural,  impres- 
sion accused  her  of  a  violent  display  of  an  eccentric  passion 
for  his  manlj^  charms ;  and  the  tighter  she  locked  him,  the 
more  reasonably  was  he  held  to  suppose  it ;  but  as,  while 
stamping  on  the  floor,  she  ofl'ered  nothing  to  his  eyes  save 
the  yellow  poll  of  her  neck,  and  hung  neither  panting  nor 
speaking,  he  became  undeceived.  His  struggles  were  pre- 
posterous ;  his  lively  sense  of  ridicule  speedily  stopped  them. 
He  remained  passive,  from  time  to  time  desperately  adjuring 
his  living  prison  to  let  him  loose,  or  to  conduct  him  whither 
he  had  come ;  but  the  inexorable  coil  kept  fast — how  long 
there  was  no  guessing — till  he  could  have  roared  out  tears 
of  rage,  and  that  is  extremity  for  an  Englishman.  Rinaldo 
arrived  in  his  aid ;  but  the  woman  still  clung  to  him.  He 
was  freed  only  by  the  voice  of  Barto  Rizzo,  who  marched 
him  back.  Rinaldo  subsequently  told  him  that  his  discovery 
of  the  armoury  necessitated  his  confinement. 

"  Necessitates  it !"  cried  Wilfrid.  "  Is  this  your  Italian 
gratitude  ?" 

The  other  answered  :  "  My  friend,  you  risked  your  fortune 
for  my  brother ;  but  this  is  a  case  that  concerns  our 
country." 

He  deemed  these  words  to  be  an  unquestionable  justifica- 
tion, for  he  said  no  more.  After  this  they  ceased  to  converse. 
Each  lay  down  on  his  strip  of  couch-matting  ;  rose  and  ate, 
and  passed  the  dreadful  untimed  hours  ;  nor  would  Wilfrid 
ask  whether  it  was  day  or  night.  We  belong  to  time  so 
utterly,  that  when  we  get  no  note  of  time,  it  wears  the 
shrouded  head  of  death  for  us  already,  Rinaldo  could  quit 
the  place  as  he  pleased  ;  he  knew  the  hours  ;  and  Wilfrid  sup- 
posed that  it  must  be  hatred  that  kept  him  from  voluntarily 
divulging  that  blessed  piece  of  knowledge.  He  had  to 
encourage  a  retorting  spiiit  of  hatred  in  order  to  mask  his 
intense  craving.  By  an  assiduous  calculation  of  seconds 
and  minutes,  ho  was  enabled  to  judge  that  the  lamp  burned 
a  space  of  six  hours  before  it  required  replenishing.  Barto 
Rizzo's  wife  trimmed  it  regularly,  but  the  accursed  woman 
came  at  all  seasons.  She  brought  their  meals  ii-reguliu-ly, 
and  she  would  never  open  her  lips :  she  was  like  a  guardian 


302  VITTORIA. 

of  the  tombs.  Wilfrid  abandoned  his  dream  of  the  variation 
of  night  and  day,  and  with  that  the  sense  of  life  deadened, 
as  the  lamp  did  toward  the  sixth  hour.  Thenceforward 
his  existence  fed  on  the  movements  of  his  companion,  the 
workings  of  whose  mind  he  began  to  read  with  a  marvellous 
insight.  He  knew  once,  long  in  advance  of  the  act  or  an 
indication  of  it,  that  Rinaldo  was  bent  on  prayer.  Rinaldo 
had  slightly  closed  his  eyelids  during  the  perusal  of  his 
book ;  he  had  taken  a  pencil  and  traced  lines  on  it  from 
memory,  and  dotted  points  here  and  there ;  he  had  left  the 
room,  and  returned  to  resume  his  study.  Then,  after  closing 
the  book  softly,  he  had  taken  up  the  mark  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  place  in  the  last  page  of  his  reading,  and  tossed  it 
away.  Wilfrid  was  prepared  to  clap  hands  when  he  should 
see  the  hated  fellow  drop  on  his  knees  ;  but  when  that  sight 
verified  his  calculation,  he  huddled  himself  exultingly  in  his 
couch-cloth  : — it  was  like  a  confirming  clamour  to  him  that 
he  was  yet  wholly  alive.  He  watched  the  anguish  of  the 
prayer,  and  was  rewarded  for  the  strain  of  his  faculties  by 
sleep.  Barto  Rizzo's  rough  voice  awakened  him.  Barto 
had  evidently  just  communicated  dismal  tidings  to  Rinaldo, 
who  left  the  vault  with  him,  and  was  absent  long  enough  to 
make  Wil£rid  forget  his  hatred  in  an  irresistible  desire  to 
catch  him  by  the  arm  and  look  in  his  face. 

"  Ah  !  you  have  not  forsaken  me,"  the  greeting  leaped 
out. 

"  Not  now,"  said  Rinaldo. 

*'  Do  you  think  of  going  ?" 

**  I  will  speak  to  you  presently,  my  friend." 

*'  Hound  !"  cried  Wilfrid,  and  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

Until  he  slept,  he  heard  the  rapid  travelling  of  a  pen  ;  on 
his  awakening,  the  pen  vexed  him  like  a  chirping  cricket 
that  tells  us  that  cock-crow  is  long  distant  when  we  are 
moaning  for  the  dawn.  Great  drops  of  sweat  were  on 
Rinaldo's  forehead.  He  wrote  as  one  who  poured  forth  a 
history  without  pause.  Barto's  wife  came  to  the  lamp  and 
beckoned  him  out,  bearing  the  lamp  away.  There  was  now 
for  the  first  time  darkness  in  this  vault.  Wilfrid  called 
Rinaldo  by  name,  and  heard  nothing  but  the  fear  of  the 
place,  which  seemed  to  rise  bristling  at  his  voice  and  shrink 
from  it.  He  called  till  dread  of  his  voice  held  him  dumb. 
"  I  am,  then,  a  coward,"  he  thought.     Nor  could  he  by-and- 


EINALDO  GUIDASCAEPI.  303 

"bj  repress  a  start  of  terror  on  hearing  Rinaldo  speak  out  of 
the  darkness.  With  screams  for  the  lamp,  and  cries  that 
he  was  suffering  slow  murder,  he  underwent  a  paroxysm  in 
the  efEort  to  conceal  his  abject  horror.  Rinaldo  sat  by  his 
side  patiently.  At  last,  he  said:  "We  are  both  of  us  pri- 
soners on  equal  terms  now."  That  was  quieting  intelligence 
to  Wilfrid,  who  asked  eagerly  :  "  What  hour  is  it  ?" 

It  was  eleven  of  the  forenoon.  Wilfrid  strove  to  dis- 
sociate his  recollection  of  clear  daylight  from  the  pressure 
of  the  hideous  featureless  time  surrounding  him.  He  asked: 
"  What  week  ?"  It  was  the  first  week  in  March.  Wilfrid 
could  not  keep  from  sobbing  aloud.  In  the  early  period  of 
such  a  captivity,  imagination,  deprived  of  all  other  food, 
conjures  phantasms  for  the  employment  of  the  brain ;  but 
there  is  still  some  consciousness  within  the  torpid  intellect 
wakeful  to  laugh  at  them  as  they  fly,  though  they  have  held 
us  at  their  mercy.  The  face  of  time  had  been  imaged  like 
the  withering  mask  of  a  corpse  to  him.  He  had  felt, 
nevertheless,  that  things  had  gone  on  as  we  trust  them  to  do 
at  the  closing  of  our  eyelids :  he  had  preserved  a  mystical 
remote  faith  in  the  steady  running  of  the  world  above,  and 
hugged  it  as  his  most  precious  treasure.  A  thunder  was 
rolled  in  his  ears  when  he  heard  of  the  flight  of  two  months 
at  one  bound.  Two  big  months  !  He  would  have  guessed, 
at  farthest,  two  weeks.  "  I  have  been  two  months  in  one 
shirt  ?  Impossible !"  he  exclaimed.  His  serious  idea  (he 
cherished  it  for  the  support  of  his  reason)  was,  that  the 
world  above  had  played  a  mad  prank  since  he  had  been 
shufiled  ofE  its  stage. 

"  It  can't  be  March,"  he  said.  "Is  there  sunlight  over- 
head ?" 

"  It  is  a  true  Milanese  March,"  Rinaldo  replied. 

"  Why  am  I  kept  a  prisoner  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say.  There  must  be  some  idea  of  making  use 
of  you." 

"  Have  you  arms  ?" 

*'  I  have  none." 

**  You  know  where  they're  to  be  had." 

"  I  know,  but  I  would  not  take  them,  if  I  could.  They, 
my  friend,  are  for  a  better  cause." 

"  A  thousand  curses  on  your  country !"  cried  Wilfrid. 
*'  Give  me  air ;  give  me  freedom ;  I  am  stifled  j  I  am  eaten 


304  VITTORIA. 

Tip  with  dirt ;  I  am  half  dead.     Are  we  never  to  have  the 
lamp  again  ?" 

"  Hear  me  speak,"  Rinaldo  stopped  his  ravings.  "  I  will 
tell  you  what  my  position  is.  A  second  attempt  has  been 
made  to  help  Count  Ammiani's  escape  ;  it  has  failed.  He  is 
detained  a  prisoner  by  the  Government  under  the  pretence 
that  he  is  implicated  in  the  slaying  of  an  Austrian  noble  by 
the  hands  of  two  brothers,  one  of  whom  slew  him  justly — 
not  as  a  dog  is  slain,  but  according  to  every  honourable 
stipulation  of  the  code.  I  was  the  witness  of  the  deed.  It 
is  for  me  that  my  cousin.  Count  Ammiani,  droops  in  prison 
when  he  should  be  with  his  bride.  Let  me  speak  on,  I  pray 
you.  I  have  said  that  I  stand  between  two  lovers.  I  can 
release  him,  I  know  well,  by  giving  myself  up  to  the  Govern- 
ment. Unless  I  do  so  instantly,  he  will  be  removed  from 
Milan  to  one  of  their  fortresses  in  the  interior,  and  there  he 
may  cry  to  the  walls  and  iron-bars  for  his  trial.  They  are 
aware  that  he  is  dear  to  Milan,  and  these  two  miserable 
attempts  have  furnished  them  with  their  excuse.  Barto 
Rizzo  bids  me  wait.  I  have  waited :  I  can  wait  no  longer. 
The  lamp  is  withheld  from  rae  to  stop  my  writing  to  my 
brother,  that  I  may  warn  him  of  my  design,  but  the  letter  is 
written  ;  the  messenger  is  on  his  way  to  Lugano.  I  do  not 
state  my  intentions  before  I  have  taken  measures  to  accom- 
plish them.  I  am  as  much  Barto  Rizzo's  prisoner  now  as 
you  are." 

The  plague  of  darkness  and  thirst  for  daylight  prevented 
Wilfrid  from  having  any  other  sentiment  than  gladness  that 
a  companion  equally  unfortunate  with  himself  was  here,  and 
equally  desirous  to  go  forth.  When  Barto's  wife  brought 
their  meal,  and  the  lamp  to  light  them  eating  it,  Rinaldo 
handed  her  pen,  ink,  pencil,  paper,  all  the  material  of  cor- 
respondence ;  upon  which,  as  one  who  had  received  a  stipu- 
lated exchange,  she  let  the  lamp  remain.  While  the  new 
and  thrice-dear  rays  were  illumining  her  dark-coloured  solid 
beauty,  I  know  not  what  touch  of  man-like  envy  or  hurt 
vanity  led  Wilfrid  to  observe  that  the  woman's  eyes  dwelt 
with  a  singular  fulness  and  softness  on  Rinaldo.  It  was 
fulness  and  softness  void  of  fire,  a  true  ox-eyed  gaze,  but 
human  in  the  fall  of  the  eyelids  ;  almost  such  as  an  eai-ly 
poet  of  the  brush  gave  to  the  Virgin  carrying  her  Child, 
to  become  an  everlasting  reduplicated  image  of  a  mother's 


EINALDO  GUIDASCAEPI.  305 

Btrong  beneficence  of  love.  He  called  Rinaldo's  attention  to 
it  when  tke  woman  had  gone.  Rinaldo  understood  his 
meaning  at  once. 

"  It  will  have  to  be  so,  I  fear,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  thought 
of  it.  But  if  I  lead  her  to  disobey  Barto,  there  is  little  hope 
for  the  poor  soul."  He  rose  up  straight,  like  one  who  would 
utter  gi-ace  for  meat.  "  Must  we,  O  my  God,  give  a  sacri- 
fice at  every  step  ?" 

With  that  he  resumed  his  seat  stiffly,  and  bent  and  mur- 
mured to  himself.  Wilfrid  had  at  one  time  of  his  life 
imagined  that  he  was  marked  by  a  peculiar  distinction  from 
the  common  herd  ;  but  contact  ^vith  this  young  man  taught 
him  to  feel  his  fellowship  to  the  world  at  large,  and  to 
rejoice  at  it,  though  it  partially  humbled  him. 

They  had  no  further  visit  from  Barto  Rizzo.  The  woman 
tended  them  in  the  same  unswerving  silence,  and  at  whiles 
that  adorable  maternity  of  aspect.  Wilfrid  was  touched  by 
commiseration  for  her.  He  was  too  bitterly  fretful  on 
account  of  clean  linen  and  the  liberty  which  fluttered  the 
prospect  of  it,  to  think  much  upon  what  her  fate  might  be  : 
perhaps  a  beating,  perhaps  the  knife.  But  the  vileness  of 
wearinsT  one  shirt  two  months  and  more  had  hardened  his 
heart ;  and  though  he  was  considerate  enough  not  to  prompt 
his  companion  very  impatiently,  he  submitted  desperate 
futile  schemes  to  him,  and  suggested — "  To-night  ? — to- 
morrow ? — the  next  day  ?"  Rinaldo  did  not  heed  him.  He 
lay  on  his  couch  like  one  who  bleeds  inwardly,  thinking  of 
the  complacent  faithfulness  of  that  poor  creature's  face. 
Barto  Rizzo  had  sworn  to  him  that  there  should  be  a  rising 
in  Milan  before  the  month  was  out ;  but  he  had  lost  all  con- 
fidence in  Milanese  risings.  Ammiani  would  be  removed,  if 
he  delayed ;  and  he  knew  that  the  moment  his  letter  reached 
Lugano,  Angelo  would  start  for  Milan  and  claim  to  surrender 
in  his  stead.  The  woman  came,  and  went  forth,  and  Rinaldo 
did  not  look  at  her  until  his  resolve  was  firm. 

He  said  to  Wilfrid  in  her  presence,  "  Swear  that  you  will 
reveal  nothing  of  this  house." 

Wilfrid  spiritedly  pronounced  his  gladdest  oath. 

"  It  is  dark  in  the  streets,"  Rinaldo  addressed  the  woman. 
**  Lead  us  out,  for  the  hour  has  come  when  I  must  go." 

She  clutched  her  hands  below  her  bosom  to  stop  its  great 
heaving,  and  stood  as  one  smi+.ton  by  the  sudden  licaring  of 


306  VITTORIA. 

her  sentence.  Tlie  sight  was  pitiful,  for  her  face  scarcely 
changed;  the  anguish  was  expressionless.  Rinaldo  pointed 
sternly  to  the  door. 

"  Stay,"  Wilfrid  interposed.  "  That  wretch  may  be  in  the 
house,  and  will  kill  her." 

"  She  is  not  thinking  of  herself,"  said  Rinaldo. 

"  But,  stay,"  Wilfrid  repeated.  The  woman's  way  of 
taking  breath  shocked  and  enfeebled  him. 

Rinaldo  threw  the  door  open. 

"  Must  you  ?  must  you  ?"  her  voice  broke. 

"  Waste  no  words." 

•'  You  have  not  seen  a  priest." 

"  I  go  to  him." 

"  You  die." 

"  What  is  death  to  me  ?  Be  dumb,  that  T  may  think  well 
of  you  till  my  last  moment." 

"  What  is  death  to  me  ?     Be  dumb  !" 

She  had  spoken  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  couch.  It  was 
the  figure  of  one  upon  the  scaffold,  knitting  her  frame  to 
hold  up  a  strangled  heart. 

"  What  is  death  to  me  ?  Be  dumb  !"  she  echoed  him 
many  times  on  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  breathing,  and  turned 
to  get  him  in  her  eyes.  "  Be  dumb !  be  dumb  !"  She  threw 
her  arms  wide  out,  and  pressed  his  temples  and  kissed  him. 

The  scene  was  like  hot  iron  to  Wilfrid's  senses.  When  he 
heard  her  coolly  asking  him  for  his  handkerchief  to  blind 
him,  he  had  forgotten  the  purpose,  and  gave  it  mechanically. 
Nothing  was  uttered  throughout  the  long  mountings  a,nd 
descent  of  stairs.  They  passed  across  one  corridor  where 
the  walls  told  of  a  humming  assemblage  of  men  within.  A 
current  of  keen  air  was  the  first  salute  Wilfrid  received  from 
the  world  above ;  his  handkerchief  was  loosened ;  he  stood 
foolish  as  a  blind  man,  weak  as  a  hospital  patient,  on  the 
steps  leading  into  a  small  square  of  visible  darkness,  and 
heard  the  door  shut  behind  him.  Rinaldo  led  him  from  the 
court  to  the  street. 

"  Farewell,"  he  said.  "  Get  some  housing  instantly;  avoid 
exposure  to  the  air.     I  leave  you." 

Wilfrid  spent  his  tongue  in  a  fruitless  and  meaningless 
remonstrance.     "  And  you  ?"  he  had  the  grace  to  ask. 

"  I  go  straight  to  find  a  priest.     FarewelL" 

So  they  parted. 


THE  FIVE  DAYS  OP  MILAN.  307 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

EPISODES  OF  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. 

THE  FIVE  DAYS  OF  MILAN. 

The  same  hand  which  brought  Rinaldo's  letter  to  his 
brother  delivered  a  message  from  Barto  Rizzo,  bidding 
Angelo  to  start  at  once  and  head  a  stout  dozen  or  so  of 
gallant  Swiss.  The  letter  and  the  message  appeared  to  be 
grievous  contradictions :  one  was  evidently  a  note  of  despair, 
while  the  other  sang  like  a  trumpet.  But  both  were  of  a 
character  to  draw  him  swiftly  on  to  Milan.  He  sent  word 
to  his  Lugano  friends,  naming  a  village  among  the  mountains 
between  Como  and  Varese,  that  they  might  join  him  there  if 
they  pleased. 

Toward  nightfall,  on  the  nineteenth  of  the  month,  he  stood 
with  a  small  band  of  Ticinese  and  Italian  fighting  lads  two 
m.iles  distant  from  the  city.  There  was  a  momentary  break 
in  long  hours  of  rain  ;  the  air  was  full  of  inexplicable  sounds, 
that  floated  over  them  like  a  toning  of  multitudes  wailing 
and  singing  fitfully  behind  a  swaying  screen.  They  bent 
their  heads.  At  intervals  a  soveieign  stamp  on  the  pulsa- 
tion of  the  uproar  said,  distinct  as  a  voice  in  the  ear — Can- 
non. "  Milan's  alive ! "  Angelo  cried,  and  they  streamed 
forward  under  the  hurry  of  stars  and  scud,  till  thumping 
guns  and  pattering  musket-shots,  the  long  big  boom  of 
surgent  hosts,  and  the  muffled  voluming  and  crash  of 
storm-bells,  proclaimed  that  the  insurrection  was  hot.  A 
rout  of  peasants  bearing  immense  ladders  met  them,  and 
they  joined  with  cheers,  and  rushed  to  the  walls.  As  yet  no 
gate  was  in  the  possession  of  the  people.  The  walls  showed 
bayonet-points :  a  thin  edge  of  steel  encircled  a  pit  of  fire. 
Angelo  resolved  to  break  through  at  once.  The  peasants 
hesitated,  but  his  own  men  were  of  one  mind  to  follow,  and, 
planting  his  ladder  in  the  ditch,  he  rushed  up  foremost. 
The  ladder  was  full  short ;  he  called  out  in  German  to  a 
Boldier  to  reach  his  hand  down,  and  the  butt-end  of  a  musket 
was  dropped,  which  he  grasped,  and  by  this  aid  sprang  to 
the  parapet,  and  was  seized.  "  Stop,"  he  said,  "  there's  a 
fellow  below  Avith  my  brandy-flask  and  portmanteau." 
The  soldiers  were  Italians  ;   they  laughed,  and  hauled  away 

x2 


308  VITTORTA. 

at  man  after  man  of  the  moiuiting  troop,  calling  alternately 
"brandy-flask! — portmanteau!"  as  each  one  raised  a  head 
above  the  parapet.  "  The  signor  has  a  good  supply  of 
spirits  and  baggage,"  they  remarked.  He  gave  them  money 
for  porterage,  saying,  "  You  see,  the  gates  are  held  by  that 
infernal  people,  and  a  quiet  traveller  must  come  over  the 
walls.  Viva  I'ltalia  !  who  follows  me  ?  "  He  carried  away 
three  of  those  present.  The  remainder  swore  that  they  and 
their  comrades  would  be  on  his  side  on  the  morrow.  Guided 
by  the  new  accession  to  his  force,  Angelo  gained  the  streets. 
All  shots  had  ceased ;  the  streets  were  lighted  with  torches 
and  hand-lamps  ;  barricades  were  up  everywhere,  like  a  con- 
vulsion of  the  earth.  Tired  of  receiving  challenges  and 
mounting  the  endless  piles  of  stones,  he  sat  down  at  the  head 
of  the  Corso  di  Porta  Nuova,  and  took  refreshments  from  the 
hands  of  ladies.  The  house-doors  were  all  open.  The 
ladies  came  forth  bearing  wine  and  minestra,  meat  and 
bread,  on  trays  ;  and  quiet  eating  and  drinking,  and  fortify- 
ing of  the  barricades,  went  on.  Men  were  rubbing  their 
arms  and  trying  rusty  gun-locks.  Few  of  them  had  not 
seen  Barto  Rizzo  that  day ;  but  Angelo  could  get  no  tidings 
of  his  brother.  He  slept  on  a  door-step,  dreaming  that  he 
was  blown  about  among  the  angels  of  heaven  and  hell  by  a 
glorious  tempest.  Near  morning  an  officer  of  volunteers 
came  to  inspect  the  barricade  defences.  Angelo  knew  him 
by  sight ;  it  was  Luciano  Romara.  He  explained  the  posi- 
tion of  the  opposing  forces.  The  Marshal,  he  said,  was 
clearly  no  street-fighter.  Estimating  the  army  under  his 
orders  in  Milan  at  from  ten  to  eleven  thousand  men  of  all 
arms,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  guard  the  gates  and  the 
walls,  and  at  the  same  time  fight  the  city.  Nor  could  he 
provision  his  troops.  Yesterday  the  troops  had  made  one 
charge  and  done  tuischief,  but  they  had  immediately  retired. 
*'  And  if  they  take  to  cannonading  us  to-day,  we  shall  know 
what  that  means,"  Romara  concluded.  Angelo  wanted  to 
join  him.  "  No,  stay  here,"  said  Romara.  "  I  think  you 
are  a  man  who  won't  give  ground."  He  had  not  seen  either 
Rinaldo  or  Ammiani,  but  spoke  of  both  as  certain  to  be 
rescued.  Rain  and  cannon  filled  the  weary  space  of  that 
day.  Some  of  the  barricades  fronting  the  city  gates  had 
been  battered  down  by  nightfall ;  they  were  restored  within 
an  hour.     Their  defenders  entered  the  houses  right  and  left 


THE  FIVE  DAYS  OF  MILAN.  309 

during  the  cannonade,  waiting  to  meet  the  charge;  but  the 
Austrians  held  off.  "  They  have  no  plan,"  Romara  said  on  his 
second  visit  of  inspection ;  "they  are  waiting  on  Fortune,  and 
starve  meanwhile.  We  can  beat  them  at  that  business." 
Romara  took  Angelo  and  his  Swiss  away  with  him.  Theinterior 
of  the  city  was  abandoned  by  the  Imperialists,  who  held  two  or 
thx'ee  of  the  principal  buildings  and  the  square  of  the  Duomo. 
Clouds  were  driving  thick  across  the  cold-gleaming  sky  when 
the  storm-bells  bui'st  out  with  the  wild  Jubilee-music  of 
insurrection — a  carol,  a  jangle  of  all  discard,  savage  as  flame. 
Every  church  of  the  city  lent  its  iron  tongue  to  the  peal ; 
and  now  they  joined  and  now  rolled  apart,  now  joined  again 
and  clanged  like  souls  shrieking  across  the  black  gulfs  of  an 
earthquake;  they  swam  aloft  with  mournful  delirium,  tumbled 
together,  were  scattered  in  spray,  dissolved,  renewed,  d"ed, 
as  a  last  worn  wave  casts  itself  on  an  unfooted  shore,  and 
rang  again  as  through  rent  doorways,  became  a  clamorous 
host,  an  iron  body,  a  pressure  as  of  a  down-drawn  firmament, 
and  once  more  a  hollow  vast,  as  if  the  abysses  of  the  Circles 
■were  sounded  through  and  through.  To  the  Milanese  it  was 
an  intoxication ;  it  was  the  howling  of  madness  to  the 
Austrians — a  torment  and  a  terror :  they  could  neither  sing, 
nor  laugh,  nor  talk  under  it.  Where  they  stood  in  the  city, 
the  troops  could  barely  hear  their  officers'  call  of  command. 
No  sooner  had  the  bells  broken  out  than  the  length  of  every 
street  and  Corso  flashed  with  the  tri-coloured  flag ;  musket- 
muzzles  peeped  from  the  windows  ;  men  with  great  squares 
of  pavement  lined  the  roofs.  Romara  mounted  a  stiff  barri- 
cade and  beheld  a  scattered  regiment  running  the  gauntlet 
of  storms  of  shot  and  missiles,  in  full  retreat  upon  the  citadel. 
On  they  came,  officers  in  front  for  the  charge,  as  usual  with 
the  Austria ns ;  fire  on  both  flanks,  a  furious  mob  at  their 
heels,  and  the  barricade  before  them.  They  rushed  at  Romara, 
and  were  hurled  back,  and  stood  in  a  riddled  lump.  Suddenly 
Romara  knocked  up  the  rifles  of  the  couching  Swiss  ;  he 
yelled  to  the  houses  to  stop  firing.  "  Surrender  your  prisoners, 
— you  shall  pass,"  he  called.  He  had  seen  one  dear  head  in 
the  knot  of  the  soldiery.  No  answer  was  given.  Romiira, 
with  Angelo  and  his  Swiss  and  the  ranks  of  the  barricade, 
poured  over  and  pierced  the  streaming  mass,  steel  for  steel. 

"Ammiani!  Ammiani !"  Romara  cried ;  a  roar  from  the 
other  side,  "  Barto !  Barto !  the  Great  Cat !"  met  the  cry. 


310  VITTORIA. 

The  Austrians  strncTc  tip  a  cheer  under  the  iron  derision  of 
the  bells ;  it  was  ludicrous  ;  it  was  as  if  a  door  had  slammed 
on  their  mouths,  ringing  tremendous  echoes  in  a  vaulted  roof. 
They  stood  sweeping  fire  in  two  oblong  lines;  a  show  of 
military  array  was  preserved  like  a  tattered  robe,  till  Romara 
drove  at  their  centre  and  left  the  retreat  clear  across  the 
barricade.  Then  the  whitecoats  were  seen  flowing  over,  the 
motley  surging  hosts  from  the  city  in  pursuit — foam  of  a 
storm-torrent  hurled  forward  by  the  black  tumult  of  pre- 
cipitous waters.  Angelo  fell  on  his  brother's  neck  ;  Romara 
clasped  Carlo  Ammiani.  These  two  were  being  marched 
from  the  prison  to  the  citadel  when  Barto  Rizzo,  who  had 
prepared  to  storm  the  building,  assailed  the  troops.  To  him 
mainly  they  were  indebted  for  their  rescue. 

Even  in  that  ecstasy  of  meeting,  the  young  men  smiled  at 
the  preternatural  transport  on  his  features  as  he  bounded  by 
them,  mad  for  slaughter,  and  mounting  a  small  brass  gun 
on  the  barricade,  sent  the  charges  of  shot  into  the  rear  of 
the  enemy.  He  kissed  the  black  lip  of  his  little  thunderer 
in  a  rapture  of  passion  ;  called  it  his  wife,  his  naked  wife ; 
the  best  of  mistresses,  who  spoke  only  when  he  charged  her 
to  speak ;  raved  that  she  was  fair,  and  liked  hugging ;  that 
she  was  true,  and  the  handsomest  daughter  of  Italy ;  that 
she  would  be  the  mother  of  big  ones — none  better  than 
herself,  though  they  were  mountains  of  sulphur  big  enough 
to  make  one  gulp  of  an  army. 

His  wife  in  the  flesh  stood  at  his  feet  with  a  hand-grenade 
and  a  rifle,  daggers  and  pistols  in  her  belt.  Her  face  was 
black  with  powder-smoke  as  the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  She 
looked  at  Rinaldo  once,  and  Rinaldo  at  her;  both  dropped 
their  eyes,  for  their  joy  at  seeing  one  another  alive  was 
mighty. 

Dead  Austrians  were  gathered  in  a  heap.  Dead  and 
wounded  Milanese  were  taken  into  the  houses.  Wine  was 
brought  forth  by  ladies  and  household  women.  An  old 
crutched  beggar,  who  had  performed  a  deed  of  singular 
intrepidity  in  himself  kindling  a  fire  at  the  door  of  one  of 
the  principal  buildings  besieged  by  the  people,  and  who 
showed  perforated  rags  with  a  comical  ejaculation  of  thanks 
to  the  Austrians  for  knowing  how  to  hit  a  scarcecrow  and 
make  a  beggar  holy,  was  the  object  of  particular  attention. 
Barto  seated  him  on  his  gun,  saying  that  his  mistress  and 


THE  FIVE  DAYS  OP  MILAN.  311 

beauty  was  honoured ;  ladies  were  proud  in  waiting  on  the 
fine  frowzy  old  man.  It  chanced  during  that  morning  that 
Wilfrid  Pierson  had  attached  himself  to  Lieutenant  Jenna's 
regiment  as  a  volunteer.  He  had  no  arms,  nothing  but  a 
huge  white  umbrella,  under  which  he  walked  dry  in  the 
heavy  rain,  and  passed  through  the  fire  like  an  impassive 
spectator  <5f  queer  events.  Angelo's  Svriss  had  captured 
them,  and  the  mob  were  maltreating  them  because  they 
declined  to  shout  for  this  valorous  ancient  beggarman.  "No 
doubt  he's  a  capital  fellow,"  said  Jenna ;  "  but  '  Viva  Scot- 
tocorni  '  is  not  my  language ;"  and  the  spirited  little  subaltern 
repeated  his  "  Excuse  me"  with  very  good  temper,  while  one 
knocked  off  his  shako,  another  tugged  at  his  coat-skirts. 
Wilfrid  sang  out  to  the  Guidascarpi,  and  the  brothers  sprang 
to  him  and  set  them  free ;  but  the  mob,  like  any  other  wild 
beast  gorged  with  blood,  wanted  play,  and  urged  Barto  to 
insist  that  these  victims  should  shout  the  viva  in  exaltation 
of  their  hero. 

"  Is  there  a  finer  voice  than  mine  ?"  said  Barto,  and  he 
roared  the  '  viva  '  like  a  melodious  bull.  Yet  Wilfrid  saw 
that  he  had  been  recognized.  In  the  hour  of  triumph  Barto 
E/izzi  had  no  lust  for  petty  vengeance.  The  magnanimous 
devil  plumped  his  gorge  contentedly  on  victory.  His  ardour 
blazed  from  his  swarthy  crimson  features  like  a  blown  fire, 
when  scouts  came  running  down  with  word  that  all  about 
the  Porta  Camosina,  Madonna  del  Carmine,  and  the  Gardens, 
the  Austrians  were  reaping  the  white  flag  of  the  inhabitants 
of  that  district.  Thitherward  his  cry  of  "  Down  with  the 
Tedeschi  !"  led  the  boiling  tide.  Rinaldo  drew  Wilfrid  and 
Jenna  to  an  open  doorway,  counselling  the  latter  to  strip  the 
gold  from  his  coat  and  speak  his  Italian  in  monosyllables, 
A  woman  of  the  house  gave  her  promise  to  shelter  and  to 
pass  them  forward.  Roraai^a,  Ammiani,  and  the  Guida- 
scarpi, went  straight  to  the  Casa  Gonfalonieri,  where  they 
hoped  to  see  stray  members  of  the  Council  of  War,  and  hear 
a  correction  of  certain  unpleasant  rumours  concerning  the 
dealings  of  the  Provisional  Government  with  Charles  Albert. 
The  first  crack  of  a  division  between  the  patriot  force  and 
the  aristocracy  commenced  this  day ;  the  day  following  it 
was  a  breach. 

A  little  before  dusk  the  bolls  of  the  city  ceased   their 
hammering,  and  when  they  ceased,  all  noises  of  men  and 


312  VITTOEIA. 

musketry  seemed  childish.  The  woman  who  had  promised 
to  lead  Wilfrid  and  Jenna  to  the  citadel,  feared  no  longer 
either  for  herself  or  them,  and  passed  them  on  up  the  Corso 
Francesco  past  the  Contrada  del  Monte.  Jenna  pointed  out 
the  Duchess  of  Graatli's  house,  saying,  "  By  the  way,  the 
Lenkensteins  are  here ;  they  left  Venice  last  week.  Of 
course  you  know,  or  don't  you  ? — and  there  they  must  stop, 
I  suppose."  Wilfrid  nodded  an  immediate  good-bye  to  him, 
and  crossed  to  the  house-door.  His  eccentric  fashion  of 
acting  had  gi^en  him  fame  in  the  army,  but  Jenna  stormed 
at  it  now,  and  begged  him  to  come  on  and  present  himself  to 
General  Schoneck,  if  not  to  General  Pierson.  Wilfrid 
refused  even  to  look  behind  him.  In  fact,  it  was  a  part  of 
the  gallant  fellow's  coxcombry  (or  nationality)  to  play  the 
Englishman.  He  remained  fixed  by  the  house-door  till  mid- 
night, when  a  body  of  men  in  the  garb  of  citizens,  volubly 
and  violently  Italian  in  their  talk,  struck  thrice  at  the  door. 
Wilfrid  perceived  Count  Lenkenstein  among  them.  The 
ladies  Bianca,  Anna,  and  Lena,  issued  mantled  and  hooded 
between  the  lights  of  two  barricade  watchfires.  Wilfrid 
stepped  after  them.  They  had  the  pass-word,  for  the  barri- 
cades were  crossed.  The  captain  of  the  head-barricade  in 
the  Corao  demurred,  requiring  a  counter-sign.  Straightway 
he  was  cut  down.  He  blew  an  alarm-call,  when  up  sprang 
a  hundred  torches.  The  band  of  Germans  dashed  at  the 
barricade  as  at  the  tusks  of  a  boar.  They  were  picked  men, 
most  of  them  officers,  but  a  scanty  number  in  the  thick  of 
an  armed  populace.  Wilfrid  saw  the  lighted  passage  into 
the  great  house,  and  thither,  throwing  out  his  arms,  he  bore 
the  affrighted  group  of  ladies,  as  a  careful  shepherd  might 
do.  Returning  to  Count  Lenkenstein's  side,  "  Where  are 
they  ?"  the  count  said,  in  mortal  dread.  "  Safe,"  Wilfrid 
replied.  The  count  frowned  at  him  inquisitively.  "  Cut 
your  way  through,  and  on  !"  he  cried  to  three  or  four  who 
hung  near  hira  ;  and  these  went  to  the  slaughter. 

"  Why  do  you  stand  by  me,  sir  r"'  said  the  count.  Interior 
barricades  were  pouring  their  combatants  to  the  spot ; 
Count  Lenkenstein  was  plunged  upon  the  door-steps.  Wil- 
frid gained  half-a-minute's  parley  by  shouting  in  his  foreign 
accent,  "  Would  you  hurt  an  Englishman  ?"  Some  one  took 
him  by  the  arm,  and  helping  to  raise  the  count,  hurried 
them  both  into  the  house. 


THE  FIVE  DAYS  OP  MILAN.  313 

"  You  nmst  make  excuses  for  popular  fury  in  times  liko 
these,"  the  stranger  observed. 

The  Austrian  nobleman  asked  him  stiffly  for  his  name. 
The  name  of  Count  Ammiani  was  given.  "  I  think  you 
know  it,"  Carlo  added. 

"  You  escaped  from  your  lawful  imprisonment  this  day, 
did  you  not  ? — you  and  your  cousin,  the  assassin.  I  talk  of 
law  !  I  might  as  justly  talk  of  honour.  Who  lives  here  ?" 
Carlo  contained  himself  to  answer,  "  The  present  occupant 
is,  I  believe,  if  I  have  hit  the  house  I  was  seeking,  the  Coun- 
tess d'Isorella." 

"  My  family  were  placed  here,  sir  ?"  Count  Lenkenstein 
inquu-ed  of  Wilfrid.  But  Wilfrid's  attention  was  frozen  by 
the  sight  of  Vittoria's  lover.  A  wifely  call  of  "  Adalbert  " 
from  above  quieted  the  count's  anxiety. 

"  Countess  d'Isorella,"  he  said.  "  I  know  that  woman. 
She  belongs  to  the  secret  cabinet  of  Carlo  Alberto — a  woman 
with  three  edges.  Did  she  not  visit  you  in  prison  two  weeks 
ago  ?  I  speak  to  you.  Count  Ammiani.  She  applied  to  the 
Archdake  and  the  Marshal  for  permission  to  visit  you.  It 
was  accorded.  To  the  devil  with  our  days  of  benignity ! 
She  was  from  Turin.  The  shuffle  has  made  her  my  hostess 
for  the  nonce.  I  will  go  to  her.  You,  sir,"  the  count  turned 
to  Wilfrid — "  you  will  stay  below.  Are  you  in  the  pay  of 
the  insurgents  ?" 

Wilfrid,  the  weakest  of  human  beings  where  women  were 
involved  with  him,  did  one  of  the  hardest  things  which  can 
task  a  young  man's  fortitude  :  he  looked  his  superior  in  the 
face,  and  neither  blenched,  nor  frowned,  nor  spoke. 

Ammiani  spoke  for  him.  "There  is  no  pay  given  in  our 
ranks." 

"  The  licence  to  rob  is  supposed  to  be  an  equivalent,"  said 
the  count. 

Countess  d'Isorella  herself  came  downstairs,  with  profuse 
apologies  for  the  absence  of  all  her  male  domestics,  and 
many  delicate  dimples  about  her  mouth  in  uttering  them. 
Her  look  at  Ammiani  struck  Wilfrid  as  having  a  peculiai 
burden  either  of  meaning  or  of  passion  in  it.  The  couni 
grimaced  angrily  when  he  heard  that  his  sister  Lena  was 
not  yet  able  to  bear  the  fatigue  of  a  walk  to  the  citadel. 
"  I  fear  you  must  all  bo  my  guests,  for  an  hour  at  least/' 
Baid  the  countess. 


314  VITTOEIA. 

Wilfrid  was  left  pacing  the  hall.  He  thought  he  had 
never  beheld  so  splendid  a  person,  or  one  so  subjugatingly 
gracious.  Her  speech  and  manner  poured  oil  on  the  uncivil 
Austrian  noblemen.  What  perchance  had  stricken  Lena  ? 
He  guessed;  and  guessed  it  rightly.  A  folded  scrap  of 
paper  signed  by  the  Countess  of  Lenkenstein  was  brought 
to  him. 

It  said : — "  Are  you  making  common  cause  with  the 
rebels  P     Reply.     One  asks  who  should  be  told." 

He  wrote : — "  I  am  an  outcast  of  the  army.  I  fight  as  a 
volunteer  with  the  K.  K.  troops.  Could  I  abandon  them  in 
their  peril  ?" 

The  touch  of  sentiment  he  appended  for  Lena's  comfort. 
He  was  too  strongly  impressed  by  the  new  vision  of  beauty 
in  the  house  for  his  imagination  to  be  flushed  by  the  romantic 
posture  of  his  devotion  to  a  trailing  flag. 

No  other  message  was  deKvered.  Ammiani  presently 
descended  and  obtained  a  guard  from  the  barricade ;  word 
was  sent  on  to  the  ban-icades  in  advance  toward  the  citadel. 
Wilfrid  stood  aside  as  Count  Lenkenstein  led  the  ladies  to 
the  door,  bearing  Lena  on  his  arm.  She  passed  her  lover 
veiled.  The  count  said,  "  You  follow."  He  used  the  menial 
second  person  plural  of  German,  and  repeated  it  peremp- 
torily, 

"  i  follow  no  civilian,"  said  Wilfrid, 

"  Remember,  sir,  that  if  you  are  seen  with  arms  in  your 
hnnds,  and  are  not  in  the  ranks,  you  run  the  chances  of 
being  hanged." 

Lena  broke  loose  from  her  brother  ;  in  spite  of  Anna's 
sharp  remonstrance  and  the  count's  vexed  stamp  of  the 
foot,  she  implored  her  lover  : — "  Come  with  us  ;  pardon  us  ; 
protect  me — me  !     You  shall  not  be  treated  harshly.     They 

shall  not Oh  !  be  near  me.     I  have  been  ill ;  I  shrink 

from  danger.     Be  near  me!" 

Such  humble  pleading  permitted  Wilfrid's  sore  spirit  to 
succumb  with  the  requisite  show  of  chivab^ous  dignity.  He 
bowed,  and  gravely  opened  his  enormous  umbrella,  which  he 
held  up  over  the  heads  of  the  ladies,  while  Ammiani  led  the 
way.  All  was  quiet  near  the  citadel.  A  fog  of  plashing 
rain  hung  in  red  gloom  about  the  many  watch-fires  of  thy 
insurgents,  but  the  Austrian  head-quarters  lay  sombre  an'] 
still.       Close   at   the   gates,    Ammiani   saluted    the   ladies. 


THE  FIVE  DATS  OF  MILAN.  3 1 5 

"Wilfrid  did  the  same,  and  heard  Lena's  call  to  liim  tin- 
moved. 

"  May  I  dare  to  hint  to  you  that  it  would  be  better  for 
you  to  join  your  party  ?"  said  Ammiani. 

Wilfrid  walked  on.  After  appearing  to  weigh  the  matter, 
he  answered,  "  The  umbrella  will  be  of  no  further  service  to 
them  to-night." 

Ammiani  laughed,  and  begged  to  be  forgiven;  but  he 
could  have  done  nothing  moi-e  Mattering. 

Sore  at  all  points,  tricked  and  ruined,  irascible  under  the 
sense  of  his  injuries,  hating  everybody  and  not  honouring 
himself,  Wilfrid  was  fast  growing  to  be  an  eccentric  by 
profession.  To  appear  cool  and  careless  was  the  great  effort 
of  his  mind. 

"  We  were  introduced  one  day  in  the  Piazza  d'Armi,"  said 
Ammiani.  "  I  would  have  found  means  to  convey  my 
apologies  to  you  for  my  behaviour  on  that  occasion,  but  I 
have  been  at  the  mercy  of  my  enemies.  Lieutenant  Pierson, 
will  you  pardon  me  ?  I  have  learnt  how  dear  you  and  your 
family  should  be  to  me.  Pi'ay,  accept  my  excuses  and  my 
counsel.  The  Countess  Lena  was  my  friend  when  I  was  a 
boy.     She  is  in  deep  distress." 

"  I  thank  you,  Count  Ammiani,  for  your  extremely  dis- 
interested advice,"  said  Wilfrid ;  but  the  Italian  was  not 
cut  to  the  quick  by  his  irony  ;  and  he  added  :  ''  I  have 
hoisted,  you  perceive,  the  white  umbrella  instead  of  wearing 
the  white  coat.  It  is  almost  as  good  as  an  hotel  in  these 
times ;  it  gives  as  much  shelter  and  nearly  as  much  pro- 
vision, and,  I  may  say,  better  attendance.  Good-night. 
Tou  will  be  at  it  again  about  daylight,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Possibly  a  little  before,"  said  Ammiani,  cooled  by  the 
false  ring  of  this  kind  of  speech. 

"  It's  useless  to  expect  that  your  infernal  bells  will  not 
burst  out  like  all  the  lunatics  on  earth  ?" 

"  Quite  useless,  I  fear.     Good-night.' 

Ammiani  charged  one  of  the  men  at  an  outer  barricade  to 
follow  the  white  umbi-ella  and  pass  it  on. 

He  returned  to  the  Countess  d'Isorella,  who  was  awaiting 
him,  and  alone. 

This  glorious  head  had  aroused  his  first  boyish  passion. 
Scandal  was  busy  concerning  tlie  two,  when  Violetta  d' Asola, 
the    youthfullest    widow    in   Lombardy   and   the   loveliest 


316  VITTORIA. 

woman,  gave  her  hand  to  Count  d'Isorella,  who  took  it  with- 
out question  of  the  boy  Ammiani.  Carlo's  mother  assisted  in 
that  arrangement ;  a  maternal  plot,  for  which  he  could  thank 
her  only  after  he  had  seen  Vittoria,  and  then  had  heard  the 
buzz  of  whispers  at  Violetta's  name.  Countess  d'Isorella 
proved  her  friendship  to  have  survived  the  old  passion,  by 
travelling  expressly  from  Turin  to  obtain  leave  to  visit  him 
in  prison.  It  was  a  marvellous  face  to  look  upon  between 
prison  walls.  Rescued  while  the  soldiers  were  marching 
him  to  the  citadel  that  day,  he  was  called  by  pure  duty  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  countess  as  soon  as  he  had  heard 
from  his  mother  that  she  was  in  the  city.  Nor  was  his 
mother  sorry  that  he  should  go.  She  had  patiently  sabmitted 
to  the  fact  of  his  betrothal  to  Vittoria,  which  was  his  safe- 
guard in  similar  perils  ;  and  she  rather  hoped  for  Yioletta 
to  wean  him  from  his  extreme  republicanism.  By  arguments  ? 
By  influence,  perhaps.  Carlo's  republicanism  was  preter- 
natural in  her  sight,  and  she  presumed  that  Violetta  would 
talk  to  him  discreetly  and  persuasively  of  the  noble  designs 
of  the  king. 

Violetta  d'Isorella  received  him  with  a  gracious  lifting  of 
her  fingers  to  his  lips  ;  congratulating  him  on  his  escape,  and 
on  the  good  fortune  of  the  day.  She  laughed  at  the  Len- 
kensteins  and  the  singular  Englishman  ;  sat  down  to  a  little 
supper-tray,  and  pouted  humorously  as  she  asked  him  to 
feed  on  confects  and  wine  ;  the  huge  appetites  of  the  insur- 
gents had  devoured  all  her  meat  and  bread. 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?"  he  said. 

She  did  well  in  replying  boldly,  "  For  the  king." 

"  Would  you  tell  another  that  it  is  for  the  king  ?" 

"  Would  I  speak  to  another  as  I  speak  to  you :"' 

Ammiani  inclined  his  head. 

They  spoke  of  the  prospects  of  the  insurrection,  of  the 
expected  outbreak  in  Venice,  the  eruption  of  Paris  and 
Vienna,  and  the  new  life  of  Italy ;  touching  on  Carlo  Alberto 
to  explode  the  truce  in  a  laughing  dissension.  At  last  she 
said  seriously,  "  I  am  a  born  Venetian,  you  know  ;  I  am  nof 
Piedmontese.  Let  me  be  sure  that  the  king  betrays  the 
country,  and  I  will  prefer  many  heads  to  one.  Excuse  me  if 
I  am  more  womanly  just  at  present.  The  king  has  sent  his 
accredited  messenger  Tartini  to  the  Provisio«^\l  Government, 
requesting  it  to  accept  his  authority.     Why  not  ?  why  not  ? 


THE  FIVE  DAYS  OF  MILAN.  317 

on  both  sides.  Count  Medole  gives  liis  adhesion  to  the  king, 
but  you  have  a  Council  of  War  that  rejects  the  king's  over- 
tures— a  revolt  within  a  revolt.  It  is  deplorable.  You  must 
have  an  army.  The  Piedmontese  once  over  the  Ticino,  how 
can  you  act  in  opposition  to  it  ?  You  must  learn  to  take  a 
master.  The  king  is  only,  or  he  appears,  tricksy  because 
you  compel  him  to  wind  and  counterplot.  I  swear  to  you, 
Italy  is  his  foremost  thought.  The  Star  of  Italy  sits  on  the 
Cross  of  Savoy." 

Ammiani  kept  his  eyelids  modestly  down.  "Ten  thou- 
sand to  plead  for  him,  such  as  you !"  he  said.  "  But  there 
is  only  one!" 

"  If  you  had  been  headstrong  once  upon  a  time,  and  I 
had  been  weak,  you  see,  my  Carlo,  you  would  have  been  a 
domestic  tyrant,  I  a  rebel.  You  will  not  admit  the  existence 
of  a  virtue  in  an  opposite  opinion.  Wise  was  your  mother 
when  she  said  '  No  '  to  a  wilful  boy  !" 

Violetta  lit  her  cigarette  and  puffed  the  smoke  ligbtly. 

'•  I  told  you  in  that  horrid  dungeon,  my  Carlo  Amaranto — 
I  call  you  by  the  old  name — the  old  name  is  sweet ! — I  told 
you  that  your  Vittoria  is  enamoured  of  the  king.  She 
blushes  like  a  battle-flag  for  the  king.  I  have  heard  her 
*  Viva  il  Re  !'     It  was  musical." 

*'  So  I  should  have  thought." 

"  Ay,  but  my  amaranto-innamorato,  does  it  not  foretell 
strife  ?  Would  you  ever — ever  take  a  heart  with  a  king's 
head  stamped  on  it  into  your  arms  ':"" 

"  Give  me  the  chance !" 

He  was  guilty  of  this  ardent  piece  of  innocence  though 
Violetta  had  pitched  her  voice  in  the  key  significant  of  a 
secret  thing  belonging  to  two  memories  that  had  not  always 
flowed  dividedly. 

"  Like  a  common  coin  ?"  she  resumed. 

"  A  heart  with  a  hinges  head  stamped  on  it  like  a  common 


com." 


He  recollected  the  sentence.  He  had  once,  during  the 
heat  of  his  grief  for  Giacomo  Piaveni,  cast  it  in  her  teeth. 

Violetta  repeated  it,  as  to  herself,  tonelessly  ;  a  method 
of  making  an  old  unkindness  strike  back  on  its  author  with 
effect. 

"  Did  we  part  good  friends  ?  I  forget,"  she  broke  the 
silence. 


318  VITTORIA. 

"  We  meet,  and  we  will  be  the  best  of  friends,*'  said 
Ammiani. 

"  Tell  your  motlier  I  am  not  three  years  older  than  her 
son, — I  am  thirty.  Who  will  make  me  young  again  ?  Tell 
her,  my  Carlo,  that  the  genius  for  intrigue,  of  which  she 
accuses  me,  develops  at  a  surprising  rate.     As  regards  my 

beauty "  the  countess  put  a  tooth  of  pearl  on  her  soft 

underlip. 

Ammiani  assiu^ed  her  that  he  would  find  words  of  his  own 
for  her  beauty. 

"  I  hear  the  eulogy,  I  know  the  sonnet,  "  said  Violetta, 
smiling,  and  described  the  points  of  a  brunette  :  the  thick 
black  banded  hair,  the  full  brown  eyes,  the  plastic  brows 
couching  over  them  ; — it  was  Vittoria's  face.  Violetta  was 
a  flower  of  colour,  fair,  with  but  one  shade  of  dark  tinting 
on  her  brown  eye-brows  and  eye-lashes,  as  you  may  see  a 
strip  of  night-cloud  cross  the  forehead  of  morning.  She  was 
yellow-haii'ed,  almost  purple-eyed,  so  rich  was  the  blue  of 
the  pupils.  Vittoria  could  be  sallow  in  despondency ;  but 
this  Violetta  never  failed  in  plumpness  and  freshness.  Tho 
pencil  which  had  given  her  aspect  the  one  touch  of  discord, 
endowed  it  with  a  subtle  harmony,  like  mystery ;  and  Am- 
miani remembered  his  having  stood  once  on  the  Lido  of 
Venice,  and  eyed  the  dawn  across  the  Adriatic,  and  dreamed 
that  Violetta  was  born  of  the  loveliness  and  held  in  her 
bosom  the  hopes  of  morning.  He  dreamed  of  it  now,  feeling 
the  smooth  roll  of  a  torrent. 

A  cry  of  "  Arms  !"  rang  down  the  length  of  tho 
Corso. 

He  started  to  his  feet  thankfully. 

"  Take  me  to  your  mothei',"  she  said.  "  I  loathe  to  hear 
firing  and  be  alone." 

Aramiani  threw  up  the  window.  There  was  a  stir  of 
lamps  and  torches  below,  and  the  low  sky  hung  red.  Violetta 
stood  quickly  thick-shod  and  hooded. 

"  Your  mother  will  admit  my  companionship,  Carlo  ?" 

*'  She  desires  to  thank  you." 

*'  She  has  no  longer  any  fear  of  me  ?" 

**  You  will  find  her  of  one  mind  with  you." 

"  Concerning  the  king !" 

"I  would  say,  on  most  subjects." 

*'  But  that  you  do  not  know  my  mind  !     You  are  modest. 


THE  FIVE  DAYS  OP  MILAN.  319 

Confess  that  you  are  thinking  the  hour  you  have  passed 
with  me  has  been  wasted." 

"  I  am,  now  I  hear  the  call  to  arms." 

"  If  I  had  all  the  while  entertained  you  with  talk  of  your 
Vittoria !  It  would  not  have  been  wasted  then,  my  ama- 
ranto.  It  is  not  wasted  for  me.  If  a  shot  should  strike 
you " 

"  Tell  her  I  died  loving  her  with  all  my  soul !"  cried 
Ammiani. 

Violetta's  frame  quivered  as  if  he  had  smitten  her. 

They  left  the  house.  Countess  Ammiani's  door  was  the 
length  of  a  barricade  distant :  it  swung  open  to  them,  like 
all  the  other  house-doors  which  were,  or  wished  to  be  es- 
teemed, true  to  the  cause,  and  hospitable  toward  patriots. 

"  Remember,  when  you  need  a  refuge,  my  villa  is  on 
Lago  Maggiore,"  Violetta  said,  and  kissed  her  finger-tips 
to  him. 

An  hour  after,  by  the  light  of  this  unlucky  little  speech, 
he  thought  of  her  as  a  shameless  coquette.  "  When  I  need 
a  refuge  ?  Is  not  Milan  in  arms  ? — Italy  alive  ?  She  con- 
siders it  all  a  passing  epidemic ;  or,  perhaps,  she  is  to  plead 
for  me  to  the  king  !" 

That  set  him  thinking  moodily  over  the  things  she  had 
uttered  of  Vittoria's  strange  and  sudden  devotion  to  the 
king._ 

Rainy  dawn  and  the  tongues  of  the  churches  ushered  in 
the  last  day  of  street  fighting.  Ammiani  found  Romara 
and  Colonel  Corte  at  the  head  of  strong  bodies  of  volunteers, 
well-armed,  ready  to  march  for  the  Porta  Tosa.  All  three 
went  straight  to  the  house  where  the  Provisional  Govern- 
ment sat,  and  sword  in  hand  denounced  Count  Medole  as  a 
traitor  who  sold  his  country  to  the  king.  Corte  dragged 
him  to  the  window  to  hear  the  shouts  for  the  Republic. 
]\Iedole  wrote  their  names  down  one  by  one,  and  said, 
"  Shall  I  leave  the  date  vacant  ?"  They  put  themselves 
at  the  head  of  their  men,  and  marched  in  the  ringing 
of  the  bells.  The  bells  were  their  sacro-military  music. 
Barto  Rizzo  was  off  to  make  a  spring  at  the  Porta 
Ticinese.  Students,  peasants,  noble  yoatlis  of  the  best 
blood,  old  men  and  young  women,  stood  ranged  in  the 
drenching  rain,  eager  to  face  death  for  freedom.  At  mid- 
day the  bells  Avere  answered  by  cannon  and  the  blunt  snap 


320  VITTOKIA. 

of  mtisketr J  volleys ;  dull,  savage  responses,  as  of  a  wounded 
great  beast  giving  short  howls  and  snarls  by  the  intermin- 
able over-roaring  of  a  cataract.  Messengers  from  the  gates 
came  running  to  the  quiet  centre  of  the  city,  where  cool 
men  discoursed  and  plotted.  Great  news,  big  lies,  were 
shouted : — Carlo  Alberto  thundered  in  the  plains ;  the 
Austrians  were  everywhere  retiring ;  the  Marshal  was  a 
prisoner ;  the  flag  of  surrender  was  on  the  citadel !  These 
things  were  for  the  ears  of  thirsty  women,  diplomatists,  and 
cripples. 

Countess  Ammiani  and  Countess  d'Isorella  sat  together 
throughout  the  agitation  of  the  day. 

The  life  prayed  for  by  one  seemed  a  wisp  of  straw  fl.ung 
on  this  humming  furnace. 

Countess  Ammiani  was  too  well  used  to  defeat  to  believe 
readily  in  victory,  and  had  shrouded  her  head  in  resignation 
too  long  to  hope  for  what  she  craved.  Her  hands  were 
joined  softly  in  her  lap.  Her  visage  had  the  same  unmoved 
expression  when  she  conversed  with  Violetta  as  when  she 
listened  to  the  ravings  of  the  Corso. 

Darkness  came,  and  the  bells  ceased  not  rolling  by  her 
open  windows  :  the  clouds  were  like  mists  of  conflagration. 

She  would  not  have  the  windows  closed.  The  noise  of 
the  city  had  become  familiar  and  akin  to  the  image  of  her 
boy.     She  sat  there  cloaked. 

Her  heart  went  like  a  time-piece  to  the  two  interrogations 
to  heaven :  "  Alive  ? — or  dead  ?" 

The  voice  of  Luciano  Romara  was  that  of  an  angel's 
answering.  He  entered  the  room  neat  and  trim  as  a  cavalier 
dressed  for  social  evening  duty,  saying  with  his  fine  tact, 
"  We  are  all  well ;"  and  after  talking  like  a  gazette  of  the 
Porta  Tosa  taken  by  the  volunteers,  Barto  Rizzo's  occupa- 
tion of  the  gate  opening  on  the  Ticino,  and  the  bursting  of 
the  Porta  Camosina  by  the  freehands  of  the  plains,  he 
handed  a  letter  to  Countess  Ammiani. 

"Carlo  is  on  the  march  to  Bergamo  and  Brescia,  with 
Corte,  Sana,  and  about  fifty  of  our  men,"  he  said. 

"  And  is  wounded — where  ?"  asked  Violetta. 

"  Slightly  in  the  hand — you  see,  he  can  march,"  Romara 
3aid,  laughing  at  her  promptness  to  suspect  a  subterfuge, 
antil  he  thought,  "  Now,  what  does  this  mean,  madam  ?" 

A  lamp  was  brought  to  Countess  Ammiani.     She  rtad : — 


the  five  days  op  milan.  321 

"  My  Mother  ! 

"  Cotton-wool  on  the  left  fore-finger.  They  deigned  to 
give  me  no  other  memorial  of  my  first  fight.  I  am  not 
worthy  of  papa's  two  bullets.  I  march  with  Corte  and  Sana 
to  Brescia.  We  keep  the  passes  of  the  Tyrol.  Luciano 
heads  five  hundred  up  to  the  hills  to-morrow  or  next  day. 
He  must  have  all  our  money.  Then  go  from  door  to  door 
and  beg  subscriptions.  Yes,  my  Chief !  it  is  to  be  like  God, 
and  deserving  of  his  gifts  to  lay  down  all  pride,  all  wealth. 
This  night  send  to  my  betrothed  in  Turin.  She  must  be 
with  no  one  but  my  mother.  It  is  my  command.  Tell  her 
so.     I  hold  imperatively  to  it. 

"  I  breathe  the  best  air  of  life.  Luciano  is  a  fine  leader  in 
action,  calm  as  in  a  ball-room.  What  did  I  feel  ?  I  will 
talk  of  it  with  you  by-and-by ; — my  father  whispered  in  my 
ears  ;  I  felt  him  at  my  right  hand.  He  said,  '  I  died  for 
this  day.'  I  feel  now  that  I  must  have  seen  him.  This  is 
imagination.  We  may  say  that  anything  is  imagination.  I 
certainly  heard  his  voice.  Be  of  good  heart,  my  mother, 
for  I  can  swear  that  the  General  wakes  up  Avhen  I  strike 
Austrian  steel.  He  loved  Brescia ;  so  I  go  there.  God 
preserve  my  mother!  The  eyes  of  heaven  are  wide  enough 
to  see  us  both.  Vittoria  by  your  side,  remember !  It  is  my 
will. 

"  Carlo." 

Countess  Ammiani  closed  her  eyes  over  the  letter,  as  in  a 
dead  sleep.  "  He  is  more  his  father  than  himself,  and  so  sud- 
denly !"  she  said.  She  was  tearless.  Violetta  helped  her 
to  her  bed-room  under  the  pretext  of  a  desire  to  hear  the  con- 
tents of  the  letter. 

That  night,  which  ended  the  five  days  of  battle  in  Milan, 
while  fires  were  raging  at  many  gates,  bells  were  rolling 
over  the  roof-tops,  the  army  of  Austria  coiled  along  the  Noi-th- 
easiem  walls  of  the  city,  through  rain  and  thick  obscurity, 
and  wove  its  way  like  a  vast  worm  into  the  outer  land. 


322  YITTOEIA. 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
EPISODES  OF  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. 

YITTORIA  DISOBEYS  HER  LOVER. 

Countess  d'Isorella's  peculiar  mission  to  Milan  was  over 
with  the  victory  of  the  city.  She  undertook  personally  to 
deliver  Carlo's  injunction  to  Vittoria  on  her  way  to  the  king. 
Countess  Ammiani  deemed  it  sufficient  that  her  son's  wishes 
should  be  repeated  verbally ;  and  as  there  appeared  to  be  no 
better  messenger  than  one  who  was  bound  for  Turin  and 
knew  Vittoria' s  place  of  residence,  she  entrusted  the  duty  to 
Violetta. 

The  much  which  hangs  on  little  was  then  set  in  motion. 

Violetta  was  crossing  the  Ticino  when  she  met  a  Milanese 
nobleman  who  had  received  cold  greeting  from  the  king,  and 
was  returning  to  Milan  with  word  that  the  Piedmontese 
declaration  of  war  against  Austria  had  been  signed.  She 
went  back  to  Milan,  saw  and  heard,  and  gathered  a  burden 
for  the  royal  ears.  This  was  a  woman,  tender  only  to  the 
recollection  of  past  days,  who  used  her  beauty  and  her  ai'ta 
as  weapons  for  influence.  She  liked  kings  because  she  saw 
neither  master  nor  dupe  in  a  republic  ;  she  liked  her  early 
lover  because  she  could  see  nothing  but  a  victim  in  any  new 
one.  She  was  fond  of  Carlo,  as  greatly  occupied  minds  may 
be  attached  to  an  old  garden  where  they  have  aforetime 
sown  fair  seed.  Jealousy  of  a  rival  in  love  that  was  discon- 
nected with  political  business  and  her  large  expenditure,  had 
never  yet  disturbed  the  lady's  nerves. 

At  Turin  she  found  Vittoria  singing  at  the  opera,  and 
winning  marked  applause  from  the  royal  box.  She  thought 
sincerely  that  to  tear  a  prima  donna  from  her  glory  would 
be  very  much  like  dismissing  a  successful  General  to  his 
home  and  gabbling  family.  A  most  eminent  personage 
agreed  with  her.  Vittoria  was  carelessly  informed  that 
Count  Ammiani  had  gone  to  Brescia,  and  having  regard  for 
her  safety,  desired  her  to  go  to  Milan  to  be  under  the  protec- 
tion of  his  mother,  and  that  Countess  Ammiani  was  willing 
to  receive  her. 

Now,  with  her  mother,  and  her  maid  Giacinta,  and  Beppo 
gathered  about  her,  for  three  weeks  Vittoria  had  been  in 


VITTOEIA  DISOBEYS  HEE  LOVEE.  323 

full  operatic  career,  working,  winniTig  fame,  believing  that 
slie  was  Avinniiig  influence,  and  establishing  a  treasury.  The 
presence  of  her  lover  in  Milan  would  have  called  her  to  the 
noble  city ;  but  he  being  at  Brescia,  she  asked  herself  why 
she  should  abstain  from  labours  which  contributed  mate- 
rially to  the  strength  of  the  revolution  and  made  her  helpful. 
It  was  doubtful  whether  Countess  Ammiani  would  permit 
her  to  sing  at  La  Scala  ;  or  whether  the  city  could  support 
an  opera  in  the  throes  of  war.  And  Vittoria  was  sending 
money  to  Milan.  The  stipend  paid  to  her  by  the  impresario, 
the  jewels,  the  big  bouquets — all  flowed  into  the  ti-easury  of 
the  insurrection.  Antonio-Pericles  advanced  her  a  large 
sum  on  the  day  when  the  news  of  the  Milanese  uprising 
reached  Turin  :  the  conditions  of  the  loan  had  simply  been 
that  she  should  continue  her  engagement  to  sing  in  Turin. 
He  was  perfectly  slavish  to  her,  and  might  be  trusted  to 
advance  more.  Since  the  great  night  at  La  Scala,  she  had 
been  often  depressed  by  a  secret  feeling  that  there  was 
divorce  between  her  love  of  her  country  and  devotion  to  her 
Art.  Now  that  both  passions  were  in  union,  both  active, 
each  aiding  the  fire  of  the  other,  she  lived  a  consummate 
life.  She  could  not  have  abandoned  her  path  instantly 
though  Carlo  had  spoken  his  command  to  her  in  person. 
Such  were  her  first  spontaneous  reasonings,  and  Laura 
Piaveni  seconded  them  ;  saying,  "  Money,  money  !  we  must 
be  Jews  for  money.  We  women  are  not  allowed  to  fight, 
but  we  can  manage  to  contribute  our  lire  and  soldi  ;  we  can 
forge  the  sinews  of  war." 

Vittoria  wrote  respectfully  to  Countess  Ammiani  stating 
why  she  declined  to  leave  Turin.  The  letter  was  poorly 
worded.  While  writing  it  she  had  been  taken  by  a  senti- 
ment of  guilt  and  of  isolation  in  presuming  to  disobey  her 
lover.  "  I  am  glad  he  will  not  see  it,"  she  remarked  to 
Laura,  who  looked  rapidly  across  the  lines,  and  said  nothing. 
Praise  of  the  king  Avas  in  the  last  sentence.  Laiu-a's  eyes 
lingered  on  it  half-a-minute. 

"  Has  he  not  drawn  his  sword  ?  He  is  going  to  march," 
said  Vittoria. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Laura  replied  coolly ;  "  but  you  put  that  to 
please  Countess  Ammiani." 

Vittoria  confessed  she  had  not  written  it  purposely  to 
defend  the  king.     "  What  harm  ?"  she  asked. 

Y  2 


324  VITTORIA. 

"  I^rone.  Only  this  playing  with  shades  allows  men  to 
call  us  hypocrites." 

The  observation  angered  Vittoria.  She  had  seen  the 
king  of  late  ;  she  had  breathed  Turin  incense  and  its  atmo- 
sphere ;  much  that  could  be  pleaded  on  the  king's  behalf 
she  had  listened  to  with  the  sympathetic  pity  which  can  be 
a  woman's  best  judgement,  and  is  the  sentiment  of  reason. 
She  had  also  brooded  over  the  king's  character,  and  had 
thought  that  if  the  Chief  could  have  her  opportunities  for 
studying  this  little  impressible,  yet  strangely  impulsive 
royal  nature,  his  severe  condemnation  of  him  would  be  tem- 
pered. In  fact,  she  was  doing  what  makes  a  woman  excess- 
ively tender  and  opinionated ;  she  was  petting  her  idea  of 
the  misunderstood  one  :  she  was  thinking  that  she  divined 
the  king's  character  by  mystical  intuition ;  I  will  dare  to 
say,  maternally  apprehended  it.  And  it  was  a  character 
strangely  open  to  feminine  perceptions,  while  to  masculine 
comprehension  it  remained  a  dead  blank,  done  either  in 
black  or  in  white. 

Vittoria  insisted  on  praising  the  king  to  Laura. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  Laura  said,  "  so  long  as  he  is  true 
to  Italy." 

"  How,  then,  am  I  hypocritical  ?" 

"My  Sandra,  you  are  certainly  perverse.  Ton  admitted 
that  you  did  something  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  Countess 
Ammiani." 

"  I  did.     But  to  be  hypocritical  one  must  be  false." 

"  Oh  !"  went  Laura. 

"And  I  write  to  Carlo.  He  does  not  care  for  the  king; 
therefore  it  is  needless  for  me  to  name  the  king  to  him  ;  and 
I  shall  not." 

Laura  said,  "  Very  well."  She  saw  a  little  deeper  than 
the  perversity,  though  she  did  not  see  the  sj^rings.  In 
Vittoria's  letter  to  her  lover,  she  made  no  allusion  to  the 
Sword  of  Italy. 

Countess  Ammiani  forwarded  both  letters  on  to  Brescia. 

When  Carlo  had  finished  reading  them,  he  heard  all 
Brescia  clamouring  indignantly  at  the  king  for  having  dis- 
armed volunteers  on  Lago  Maggiore  and  elsewhere  in  his 
dominions.  Milan  was  sending  word  by  every  post  of  the 
overbearing  arrogance  of  the  Piedmontese  officers  and 
officials,    who  claimed  a  prostrate  submission  from  a  city 


VITTORIA  DISOBEYS  HER  LOVER.  325 

fresh  witli  tlie  ardour  of  the  glory  it  had  won  for  itself,  and 
that  would  fain  have  welcomed  them  as  brothei-s.  Romara 
and  others  wrote  of  downright  visible  betrayal.  It  was  a 
time  of  passions  : — great  readiness  for  generosity,  equal 
promptitude  for  undiscriminating  hatred.  Carlo  read 
Vittoria's  praise  of  the  king  with  insufferable  anguish. 
"You — you  part  of  me,  can  write  like  this  !"  he  struck  the 
paper  vehemently.  The  fury  of  action  transformed  the 
gentle  youth.  Countess  Ammiani  would  not  have  forwai'ded 
the  letter  addressed  to  herself  had  she  dreamed  the  mischief 
it  might  do.  Carlo  saw  double-dealing  in  the  absence  of 
any  mention  of  the  king  in  his  own  letter. 

"  Quit  Turin  at  once,"  he  dashed  hasty  lines  to  Vittoria ; 
"  and  no  '  Viva  il  Re  '  till  we  know  what  he  may  meiit.  Old 
delusions  are  pardonable  ;  but  you  must  now  look  abroad 
with  your  eyes.  Your  words  should  be  the  echoes  of  my 
soul.  Your  acts  are  mine.  For  the  sake  of  the  country,  do 
nothing  to  fill  me  with  shame.  The  king  is  a  traitor.  I 
remember  things  said  of  him  by  Agostino ;  I  subscribe  to 
them  every  one.  Were  you  like  any  other  Italian  girl,  you 
might  cry  for  him — who  would  care  !  But  you  are  Vittoria. 
Fly  to  my  mother's  arms,  and  there  rest.  The  king  betrays 
us.  Is  a  stronger  word  necessary  ?  I  am  writing  too 
harshly  to  yoa ; — and  here  are  the  lines  of  your  beloved 
letter  throbbing  round  me  while  I  write  ;  but  till  the  last 
shot  is  fired  I  try  to  be  iron,  and  would  hold  your  hand  and 
not  kiss  it — not  be  mad  to  fall  between  your  arms— not  wish 
for  you — not  think  of  you  as  a  woman,  as  my  beloved,  as  my 
Vittoria ;  I  hope  and  pray  not,  if  I  thought  there  was  an  ace 
of  work  left  to  do  for  the  country.  Or  if  one  could  say  that 
you  cliei-ished  a  shred  of  loyalty  for  him   who  betrays  it. 

Great  heaven  !  am  I  to  imagine  that  royal  flatteries My 

hand  is  not  my  own  !  You  shall  see  all  that  it  writes.  I 
will  seem  to  you  no  better  than  I  am.  I  do  not  tell  you  to 
be  a  Republican,  but  an  Italian.  If  I  had  room  for  myself 
in  my  prayers — oh  !  one  half-instant  to  look  on  you,  though 
with  chains  on  my  limbs.  The  sky  and  the  solid  ground 
break  up  when  I  think  of  you.  I  fancy  I  am  still  in  prison. 
Angelo  was  music  to  me  for  two  whole  days  (without  a 
morning  to  the  fii-st  and  a  night  to  the  second).  Ho  Avill  bo 
fciero  to-morrow  and  talk  of  you  again.     I  long  for  him  more 


326  VITTORIA. 

than  for  battle — almost  long  for  yon  more  tlian  for  victory 
for  our  Italy. 

"  This  is  Brescia,  which  my  father  said  he  loved  better 
than  his  wife. 

"  General  Paolo  Ammiani  is  buried  here.  I  was  at  his 
tombstone  this  morning.     I  wish  you  had  known  him. 

"  You  remember,  we  talked  of  his  fencing  with  me  daily, 
'  I  love  the  fathers  who  do  that.''  You  said  it.  He  will  love 
you.  Death  is  the  shadow — not  life.  I  went  to  his  tomb. 
It  was  more  to  think  of  Brescia  than  of  him.  Ashes  are 
only  ashes ;  tombs  are  poor  places.     My  soul  is  the  power. 

"  If  I  saw  the  Monte  Viso  this  morning,  I  saw  right  over 
your  head  when  you  were  sleeping. 

"  Farewell  to  journalism — I  hope,  for  ever.  I  jump  at 
shaking  oif  the  journalistic  phraseology  Agostino  laughs  at. 
Yet  I  was  right  in  printing  my  '  young  nonsense.'  I  did 
hold  the  truth,  and  that  was  felt,  though  my  vehicle  for 
delivering  it  was  rubbish. 

"  In  two  days  Corte  promises  to  sing  his  song,  '  Avanti.' 
I  am  at  his  left  hand.  Venice,  the  passes  of  the  Adige,  the 
Adda,  the  Oglio  are  ours.  The  room  is  locked ;  we  have 
only  to  exterminate  the  reptiles  inside  it.  Romara,  D'Arci, 
Cai'nischi  march  to  hold  the  doors.  Corte  will  push  lower  ; 
and  if  I  can  get  him  to  enter  the  plains  and  join  the  main 
army  I  shall  rejoice." 

The  letter  concluded  with  a  postscript  that  half  an  Italian 
regiment,  with  white  coats  swinging  on  their  bayonet-points, 
had  just  come  in. 

It  reached  Vittoria  at  a  critical  moment. 

Two  days  previously,  she  and  Laui'a  Piaveni  had  talked 
with  the  king.  It  was  an  unexpected  honour.  Countess 
d'Isorella  conducted  them  to  the  palace.  The  lean-beaded 
sovereign  sat  booted  and  spurred,  his  sword  across  his  knees ; 
he  spoke  with  a  peculiar  sad  hopefulness  of  the  prospects  of 
the  campaign,  making  it  clear  that  he  was  risking  more  than 
any  one  risked,  for  his  stake  was  a  croMoi.  The  few  words 
he  uttered  of  Italy  had  a  golden  ring  in  them ;  Vittoria  knew 
not  why  they  had  it.  He  condemned  the  Republican  spirit 
of  Milan  more  regretfully  than  severely.  The  Republicans 
were,  he  said,  impracticable.  Beyond  the  desire  for  change, 
they  knew  not  what  they  wanted.  He  did  not  state  that  he 
should  avoid  Milan  in  his   march.      On    the   conti-ary,  ho 


VITTOraA  DISOBEYS  HER  LOVER.  327 

seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was  about  to  present  himself  to 
the  people  of  Milan.  "  To  act  against  the  enemy  success- 
fully, we  must  act  as  one,  under  one  head,  with  one  aim." 
He  said  this,  adding  that  no  heart  in  Italy  had  yearned 
more  than  his  own  for  the  signal  to  march  for  the  Mincio 
and  the  Adige. 

Vittoria  determined  to  put  him  to  one  test.  She  sum- 
moned her  boldness  to  crave  grace  for  Agostino  Balderini  to 
return  to  Piedmont.  The  petition  was  immediately  granted. 
Alluding  to  the  libretto  of  Camilla,  the  king  complimented 
Vittoria  for  her  high  courage  on  the  night  of  the  Fifteenth 
of  the  foregoing  year.  "  We  in  Turin  were  prepared,  though 
we  had  only  then  tlie  pleasure  of  hearing  of  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  strove  to  do  my  best  to  help.  I  wish  to  serve  our 
cause  now,"  she  replied,  feeling  an  inexplicable  new  sweet- 
ness running  in  her  blood. 

He  asked  her  if  she  did  not  know  that  she  had  the  power 
to  move  multitudes. 

"  Sire,  singing  appears  so  poor  a  thing  in  time  of 
war." 

He  remarked  that  wine  was  good  for  soldiers,  singing 
better,  such  a  voice  as  hers  best  of  all. 

For  hours  after  the  interview,  Vittoria  struggled  with  her 
deep  blushes.  She  heard  the  drums  of  the  regiments,  the 
clatter  of  horses,  the  bugle-call  of  assembly,  as  so  many 
confirmatory  notes  that  it  was  a  royal  hero  who  was  going 
forth. 

"  He  stakes  a  crown,"  she  said  to  Laura. 

"  Tush !  it  tumbles  off  his  head  if  he  refuses  to  ventui-o 
something,"  was  Laura's  response. 

Vittoria  reproached  her  for  injustice. 

"  No,"  Laura  said  ;  "  he  is  like  a  young  man  for  whom  his 
mother  has  made  a  match.  And  he  would  be  very  much  in 
love  with  his  bride  if  he  were  quite  certain  of  winning  her, 
or  rather,  if  she  would  come  a  little  more  than  half-way  to 
meet  him.  Some  young  men  are  so  composed.  Genoa  and 
Tui'in  say,  '  Go  and  try.'  Milan  and  Venice  say,  '  Come  and 
have  faith  in  us.'  My  opinion  is  that  he  is  quite  as  much 
propelled  as  attracted." 

*'  This  is  shameful,"  said  Vittoria. 

"  No ;  for  I  am  quite  willing  to  suspend  my  judgement.  I 
pray  that    fortune    may  bless  his   arms.     I  do  think   that 


328  VITTOEIA. 

the  stir  of  a  campaign,  and  a  certain  amount  of  snccess  will 
make  him  in  earnest." 

"  Can  you  look  on  his  face  and  not  see  pure  enthusiasm  ?** 

"  I  see  every  feminine  quality  in  it,  my  dear." 

"  What  can  it  be  that  he  is  wanting  in  ?" 

**  Masculine  ambition." 

"  I  am  not  defending  him,"  said  Vittoria  hastily. 

*'  Not  at  all ;  and  I  am  not  attacking  him.  I  can  excuse 
his  dread  of  Republicanism.  I  can  fancy  that  there  is  reason 
for  him  just  now  to  fear  Republicanism  worse  than  Austria. 
Paris  and  Milan  are  two  grisly  phantoms  before  him.  These 
red  spectres  are  born  of  earthquake,  and  are  more  given  to 
shaking  thrones  than  are  hostile  cannon-shot.  Earthquakes 
are  dreadfuller  than  common  maladies  to  all  of  us.  Fortune 
may  help  him,  but  he  has  not  the  look  of  one  who  commands 
her.  The  face  is  not  aquiline.  There's  a  light  over  him  like 
the  ray  of  a  sickly  star." 

"  For  that  reason !"  Vittoria  burst  out. 

"  Oh,  for  that  reason  we  pity  men,  assuredly,  my  Sandra, 
but  not  kings.  Luckless  kings  are  not  generous  men,  and 
ungenerous  men  are  mischievous  kings." 

"  But  if  you  find  him  chivalrous  and  devoted  ;  if  he  proves 
his  noble  intentions,  why  not  support  him  ?" 

"  Dandle  a  puppet,  by  all  means,"  said  Laura. 

Her  intellect,  not  her  heart,  was  harsh  to  the  king ;  and 
her  heart  was  not  mistress  of  her  intellect  in  this  respect, 
because  she  beheld  riding  forth  at  the  head  of  Italy  one 
whose  spirit  was  too  much  after  the  pattern  of  her  supple, 
springing,  cowering,  impressionable  sex,  alternately  ardent 
and  abject,  chivalrous  and  treacherous,  and  not  to  be  con- 
fided in  firmly  when  standing  at  the  head  of  a  gi'eat  cause. 

Aware  that  she  was  reading  him  very  strictly  by  the 
letters  of  his  past  deeds,  which  were  not  plain  history  to 
Vittoi'ia,  she  declared  that  she  did  not  countenance  suspicion 
in  dealing  with  the  king,  and  that  it  would  be  a  delight  to 
her  to  hear  of  his  gallant  bearing  on  the  battle-field.  "  Or 
to  witness  it,  my  Sandra,  if  that  were  possible ; — we  two ! 
For,  should  he  prove  to  be  no  General,  he  has  the  courage  of 
his  family." 

Vittoria  took  fire  at  this.  "  What  hinders  our  following 
the  army  '?" 

"■  The  less  baggage  the  better,  my  dear." 


VITTOrjA  DISOBEYS  HER  LOVER.  329 

"  But  the  king  said  tliat  my  singing 1  have  no  right 

to  think  it  myself."     Vittoria  concluded  her  sentence  with  a 
comical  intention  of  humility. 

"  It  was  a  pretty  compliment,"  said  Laura.  "You  replied 
that  singing  is  a  poor  thing  in  time  of  war,  and  I  agree  with 
you.     We  might  serve  as  hospital  nurses." 

"  Why  do  we  not  determine  ?" 

"  We  are  only  considering  possibilities." 

"  Consider  the  impossibility  of  our  remaining  quiet." 

"  Fire  that  goes  to  flame  is  a  waste  of  heat,  my  Sandra." 

The  signora,  however,  was  not  so  discreet  as  her  speech. 
On  all  sides  there  was  uproar  and  movement.  High-born 
Italian  ladies  were  offering  their  hands  for  any  serviceable 
work.  Laura  and  Vittoria  were  not  alone  in  the  desire 
which  was  growing  to  be  resolution  to  share  the  hardships  of 
the  soldiers,  to  cherish  and  encourage  them,  and  by  seeing, 
to  have  the  supreme  joy  of  feeling  the  blows  struck  at  the 
common  enemy. 

The  opera  closed  when  the  king  marched.  Carlo  Am- 
miani's  letter  was  handed  to  Vittoria  at  the  fall  of  the 
curtain  on  the  last  night. 

Three  paths  were  open  to  her :  either  that  she  should  obey 
her  lover,  or  earn  an  immense  sum  of  money  from  Antonio- 
Pericles  by  accepting  an  immediate  engagement  in  London, 
or  go  to  the  war.  To  sit  in  submissive  obedience  seemed 
unreasonable ;  to  fly  from  Italy  impossible.  Yet  the  latter 
alternative  appealed  strongly  to  her  sense  of  duty,  and  as  it 
thereby  threw  her  lover's  commands  into  the  background, 
she  left  it  to  her  heart  to  struggle  with  Carlo,  and  thought 
over  the  two  final  propositions.  The  idea  of  being  apart 
from  Italy  while  the  living  country  streamed  forth  to  battle 
struck  her  inflamed  spirit  like  the  shock  of  a  pause  in 
martial  music.  Laura  pretended  to  take  no  part  in  Vit- 
toria's  decision,  but  when  it  was  reached,  she  showed  her  a 
travelling-carriage  stocked  with  lint  and  linen,  wine  in  jars, 
chocolate,  cases  of  brandy,  tea,  coffee,  needles,  thread,  twine, 
scissors,  knives  ;  saying,  as  she  displayed  them,  "  There,  my 
dear,  all  my  money  has  gone  in  that  equipment,  so  you  must 
pay  on  the  road." 

"  This  doesn't  leave  me  a  choice,  then,"  said  Vittoria, 
joining  her  humour. 

"  Ah,  but  think  over  it,"  Laura  suggested. 


330  VITTOKIA. 

**  !N"o !  not  think  at  all,"  cried  Vittoria. 

"  You  do  not  fear  Carlo's  anger  ?  " 

*'  If  I  think,  I  am  weak  as  water.     Let  us  go." 

Countess  d'lsorella  wrote  to  Carlo :  "  Your  Vittoria  ia 
away  after  the  king  to  Pavia.  They  tell  me  she  stood  up  in 
her  carriage  on  the  Ponte  del  Po — '  Viva  il  Re  d'ltalia  ! ' — 
waving  the  cross  of  Savoy.  As  I  have  previously  assured 
you,  no  woman  is  Republican.  The  demonstration  was  a 
mistake.  Public  characters  should  not  let  their  personal 
preferences  be  trumpeted  :  a  diplomatic  truism  : — but  I  must 
add,  least  of  all  a  cantatrice  for  a  king.  The  fa.mous  Greek 
amateur — the  prop  of  failing  finances — is  after  her  to  arrest 
her  for  breach  of  engagement.  You  wished  to  discover  an 
independent  mind  in  a  woman,  my  Carlo ;  did  you  not  ?  One 
would  suppose  her  your  wife — or  widow.  She  looked  a 
superb  thing  the  last  night  she  sang.  She  is  not,  in  my 
opinion,  wanting  in  height.  If,  behind  all  that  innocence 
and  candour,  she  has  any  trained  artfulness,  she  will  beat  us 
all.     Heaven  bless  your  arms  !  " 

The  demonstration  mentioned  by  the  countess  had  not 
occurred. 

Vittoria's  letter  to  her  lover  missed  him.  She  wrote  from 
Pavia,  after  she  had  taken  her  decisive  step. 

Carlo  Ammiani  went  into  the  business  of  the  war  with  the 
belief  that  his  betrothed  had  despised  his  prayer  to  her. 

He  was  under  Colonel  Corte,  operating  on  the  sub-Alpine 
range  of  hills  along  the  line  of  the  Chiese  South-eastward. 
Here  the  volunteers,  formed  of  the  best  blood  of  Milan,  the 
gay  and  brave  young  men,  after  marching  in  the  pride  of 
their  strength  to  hold  the  Alpine  passes  and  bar  Austria 
from  Italy  while  the  fight  went  on  below,  were  struck  by  a 
sudden  paralysis.  They  hung  aloft  there  like  an  arm  cleft 
from  the  body.  Weapons,  clothes,  provisions,  money,  the 
implements  of  war,  were  withheld  from  them.  The  Pied- 
montese  ofiicers  despatched  to  watch  their  proceedings 
laughed  at  them  like  exasperating  senior  scholars  examining 
the  accomplishments  of  a  lower  form.  It  was  manifest  that 
Count  Medole  and  the  Government  of  Milan  worked  every- 
where to  conquer  the  people  for  the  king  before  the  king  had 
done  a  stroke  to  conquer  the  Austrians  for  the  people  ; 
while,  in  order  to  reduce  them  to  tlie  condition  of  Pied- 
montesc  soldiery,  the  flame  of  their  pat]  iotic  enthusiasm  was 


THE  TREACHERY  OF  PERICLES,  ETC.  331 

systematically  damped,  and  instead  of  apprentices  in  war, 
-svho  possessed  at  any  rate  tlie  elementary  stuff  of  soldiers, 
miserable  dummies  were  drafted  into  the  royal  service.  The 
Tuscans  and  the  Romans  had  good  reason  to  complain  on 
behalf  of  their  princes,  as  had  the  Venetians  and  the  Lom- 
bards for  the  cause  of  their  Republic.  Neither  Tuscans, 
Romans,  Venetians,  nor  Lombards,  were  offering  up  their 
lives  simply  to  obtain  a  change  of  rulers ;  though  all  Italy 
was  ready  to  bow  in  allegiance  to  a  king  of  proved  kingly 
qualit3^  Early  in  the  campaign  the  cry  of  treason  was 
muttered,  and  on  all  sides  such  became  the  temper  of  the 
Alpine  volunteers,  that  Angelo  and  Rinaldo  Guidascarpi 
were  forced  to  join  their  cousin  under  Corte,  by  the  disper- 
sion of  their  band,  amounting  to  something  more  than 
eighteen  hundred  fighting  lads,  whom  a  Piedmontese  supe- 
rior oflB-cer  summoned  peremptorily  to  shout  for  the  king. 
They  thundered  as  one  voice  for  the  Italian  Republic,  and 
instantly  broke  up  and  disbanded.  This  was  the  folly  of 
the  young :  Carlo  Ammiani  confessed  that  it  was  no  better ; 
but  he  knew  that  a  breath  of  generous  confidence  from  the 
self-appointed  champion  of  the  national  cause  would  have 
subdued  liis  impatience  at  royalty  and  given  heart  and  cheer 
to  his  sickening  comrades.  He  began  to  frown  angrily  when 
he  thought  of  Vittoria.  "  Where  is  she  now  ? — where  now  ?" 
he  asked  himself  in  the  season  of  his  most  violent  wrath  at 
the  king.  Her  conduct  grew  inseparable  in  his  mind  from 
the  king's  deeds.  The  sufferings,  the  fierce  irony,  the  very 
deaths  of  the  men  surrounding  him  in  arms,  rose  up  in  accu- 
sation  against  the  woman  he  loved. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

EPISODES  OF  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. 

THE  TREACHERY  OP  PERICLES. — THE  WHITE  UMBRELLA. — THE 
DEATH  OF  RINALDO  GUIDASCARPI. 

The  king  crossed  the  Mincio.     The  Marshal,  threatened 
on  his  left  flank,  drew  in  his  line  from  the  farther  Veronese 


832  VITTORIA. 

heiglits  npon  a  narrowed  battle  front  before  Yerona.  Here 
tliey  manoeuvred,  and  the  opening  successes  fell  to  the  king. 
Holding  Peschiera  begirt,  with  one  sharp  passage  of  arms 
he  cleared  the  right  bank  of  the  Adige  and  stood  on  the 
semicircle  of  hills,  master  of  the  main  artery  into  Tyrol. 

The  village  of  Pastrengo  has  given  its  name  to  the  day. 
It  was  a  day  of  intense  heat  coming  after  heavy  rains.  The 
arid  soil  steamed ;  the  white  powder-smoke  curled  in  long 
horizontal  columns  across  the  hazy  ring  of  the  fight.  Seen 
from  a  distance  it  was  like  a  huge  downy  ball,  kicked  this 
way  and  that  between  the  cypresses  by  invisible  giants.  A 
pair  of  eager- eyed  women  gazing  on  a  battlefield  for  the  first 
time  could  but  ask  themselves  in  bewilderment  whether  the 
fate  of  countries  were  verily  settled  in  such  a  fashion.  Par 
in  the  rear,  Vittoria  and  Laura  heard  the  cannon-shots ;  a 
sullen  dull  sound,  as  of  a  mallet  striking  upon  rotten  timber. 
They  drove  at  speed.  The  great  thumps  became  varied  by 
musketry  volleys,  that  were  like  blocks  of  rock-boulder 
tumbled  in  the  roll  of  a  mountain  torrent.  These,  then, 
were  the  voices  of  Italy  and  Austria  speaking  the  devilish 
tongue  of  the  final  alternative.  Cannon,  rockets,  musketry, 
and  now  the  run  of  drums,  now  the  ring  of  bugles,  now  the 
tramp  of  horses,  and  the  field  was  like  a  landslip.  A  joyful 
bright  black  death-wine  seemed  to  pour  from  the  bugles  all 
about.  The  women  strained  their  senses  to  hear  and  see ; 
they  could  realize  nothing  of  a  reality  so  absolute;  their 
feelings  were  shattered,  and  crowded  over  them  in  patches  ; 
• — horror,  glory,  panic,  hope,  shifted  lights  within  their 
bosoms.  The  fascination  and  repulsion  of  the  image  of 
Force  divided  them.  They  feared;  they  were  prostrate; 
they  sprang  in  praise.  The  image  of  Force  was  god  and 
devil  to  their  souls.  They  strove  to  understand  why  the 
field  was  marked  with  blocks  of  men  who  made  a  plume 
of  vapoar  here,  and  hurried  thither.  The  action  of  their 
intellects  resolved  to  a  blank  marvel  at  seeing  an  imminent 
thing — an  interrogation  to  almighty  heaven — treated  with 
method,  not  with  fury  streaming  forward.  Cleave  the 
opposing  ranks  !  Cry  to  God  for  fire  !  Cut  them  through  ! 
They  had  come  to  see  the  Song  of  Deborah  performed 
before  their  eyes,  and  they  witnessed  only  a  battle.  Blocks 
of  infantry  gathered  densely,  thinned  to  a  line,  wheeled  in 
column,  marched  :  blocks  of  cavalry  changed  posts  :  artillery 


THE  TKEACnEBY  OF  PEFJCLES,  ETC.  333 

bellowed  from  one  spot  and  quickly  selected  another. 
Infantry  advanced  in  the  wake  of  tiny  smoke-puffs,  halted, 
advanced  aq-ain,  rattled  files  of  shots,  became  struck  into 
knots,  faced  half  about  as  from  a  blow  of  the  back  of  a  hand, 
retired  orderly.  Cavalry  curved  like  a  flickering  scimetar  in 
their  rear;  artillery  plodded  to  its  further  station.  Innumer- 
able tiny  smoke-puifs  then  preceded  a  fresh  advance  of 
infantry.  The  enemy  were  on  the  hills  and  looked  mightier, 
for  they  were  revealed  among  red  flashes  of  their  guns,  and 
stood  partly  visible  above  clouds  of  hostile  smoke  and 
through  clouds  of  their  own,  which  grasped  viscously  by  the 
skirts  of  the  hills.  Yet  it  seemed  a  strife  of  insects,  until, 
one  by  one,  soldiers  who  had  gone  into  yonder  white  pit  for 
the  bloody  kiss  of  death,  and  had  got  it  on  their  faces,  were 
borne  by.  Vittoria  and  Laura  knelt  in  this  horrid  stream 
of  mortal  anguish  to  give  succour  from  their  stores  in  the 
carriage.  Their  natural  emotions  were  disti'aught.  They 
Avelcomed  the  sight  of  suffering  thankfully,  for  the  poor 
blotted  faces  were  so  glad  at  sight  of  them.  Torture  was 
their  key  to  the  reading  of  the  battle.  They  gazed  on  the 
field  no  longer,  but  let  the  roaring  wave  of  combat  wash  up 
to  them  what  it  would. 

The  hill  behind  Pastrengo  was  twice  stormed.  When  the 
bluecoats  first  fell  back,  a  fine  charge  of  Piedmontese  horse 
cleared  the  slopes  for  a  second  effort,  and  they  went  up  and 
on,  driving  the  enemy  from  hill  to  hill.  The  Adige  was 
crossed  by  the  Austrians  under  cover  of  Tyrolese  rifle-shots. 

Then,  with  Beppo  at  their  heels,  bearing  water,  wine,  and 
brandy,  the  women  walked  in  the  paths  of  carnage,  and  saw 
the  many  faces  of  death.  Laura  whispered  strangely,  "  How 
light-hearted  they  look!"  The  wounded  called  their  com- 
forters sweet  names.  Some  smoked  and  some  sang,  some 
groaned  ;  all  were  quick  to  drink.  Their  jokes  at  the  dead 
were  univei-sal.  They  twisted  their  bodies  painfully  to  stick 
a  cigar  between  dead  lips,  and  besprinkle  them  with  the  last 
drojjs  of  liquor  in  their  cups,  laughing  a  benediction.  These 
Bcenes  put  grievous  chains  on  Vittoria's  spirit,  but  Laura 
evidently  was  not  tlie  heavier  for  them.  Glorious  Verona 
shone  under  the  sunset  as  their  own  to  come;  Peschioi-a,  on 
the  blue  lake,  was  in  the  hollow  of  their  hands.  "  Prizes 
wortli  any  quantity  of  blood,"  said  Laura.  Vittoria  con- 
fessed that  she  had  seen  enough  of  blood,  and  her  aspect 


334  VITTORIA, 

provoked  Laura  to  utter,  "For  God's  sake,  think  of  some- 
thing miserable ; — cry,  if  you  can  !" 

Vittoria's  under  lip  dropped  sickly  with  the  question, 
"Why?" 

Laura  stated  the  physical  necessity  "with  Italian  naivete. 

"  If  I  can,"  said  Vittoria,  and  blinked  to  get  a  tear  ;  but 
laughter  helped  as  well  to  relieve  her,  and  it  came  on  their 
return  to  the  carriac^e.  They  found  the  spy  Luigi  sitting 
beside  the  driver.  He  informed  them  that  Antonio-Pericles 
had  been  in  the  track  of  the  army  ever  since  their  flight  from 
Turin ;  daily  hurrying  oif  with  whip  of  horses  at  the  sound 
of  cannon-shot,  and  gradually  stealing  back  to  the  extreme 
rear.  This  day  he  had  flown  from  Oliosi  to  Cavriani,  and 
was,  perhaps,  retracing  his  way  already  as  before,  on  fearful 
toe-tips.  Luigi  acted  the  caution  of  one  who  stepped  blind- 
folded across  hot  iron  plates.  Vittoria,  without  a  spark  of 
interest,  asked  why  the  Signor  Antonio  should  be  following 
the  army. 

"  Why,  it's  to  find  yov,,  signorina." 

Luigi's  comical  emphasis  conjured  up  in  a  jumbled  picture 
the  devotion,  the  fury,  the  zeal,  the  terror  of  Antonio- 
Pericles — -a  mixture  of  demoniacal  energy  and  ludicrous 
trepidation.  She  imagined  his  long  figure,  fantastical  as  a 
shadow,  off  at  huge  strides,  and  back,  with  eyes  sliding 
swiftly  to  the  temples,  and  his  odd  serpent's  head  raised  to 
peer  across  the  plains,  and  occasionally  to  exclaim  to  the 
reasonable  heavens  in  anger  at  men  and  loathing  of  her. 
She  laughed  ungovernably.  Luigi  exclaimed  that,  albeit 
in  disgrace  with  the  signor  Antonio,  he  had  been  sent  for  to 
serve  him  afresh,  and  had  now  been  sent  forward  to  entreat 
the  gracious  signorina  to  grant  her  sincerest  friend  and 
adorer  an  intervicvv.  She  laughed  at  Pericles,  but  in  truth 
she  almost  loved  the  man  for  his  worship  of  her  Art,  and 
representation  of  her  dear  peaceful  practice  of  it. 

The  interview  between  them  took  place  at  Oliosi.  There, 
also,  she  met  Georgiana  Ford,  the  half-sister  of  Merthyr 
Powys,  who  told  her  that  Merthyr  and  Augustus  Gambler 
were  in  the  ranks  of  a  volunteer  contingent  in  the  king's 
army,  and  might  have  been  present  at  Pastrengo.  Georgiana 
held  aloof  from  battle-fields,  her  business  being  simply  to 
serve  as  Merthyr's  nurse  in  case  of  wounds,  or  to  see  the  last 
of  him  in  case  of  death.     She  appt  ared  to  have  no  enthu- 


THE  TEEACHERT  OF  PERICLES,  ETC,  335 

siasm.  Slie  seconded  strongly  the  vehement  persuasions 
addressed  bv  Pericles  to  Yittoria.  Her  disapproval  of  the 
presence  of  her  sex  on  fields  of  battle  was  precise.  Pericles 
had  followed  the  army  to  give  Vittoria  one  last  chance,  he 
said,  and  drag  her  away  from  this  sick  country,  as  he  called 
it,  pointing  at  the  dusty  land  from  the  windows  of  the  inn. 
On  first  seeing  her  he  gasped  like  one  who  has  recovered  a 
lost  thing.  To  Laura  he  was  a  fool ;  but  Vittoria  enjoyed 
his  wildest  outbursts,  and  her  half-sincere  humility  encou- 
raged him  to  think  that  he  had  captured  her  at  last.  He 
enlarged  on  the  perils  surrounding  her  voice  in  dusty  bel- 
lowing Lombardy,  and  on  the  ardour  of  his  friendship  in 
exposing  himself  to  perils  as  tremendous,  that  he  might 
rescue  her.  While  speaking  he  pricked  a  lively  ear  for  the 
noise  of  guns,  hearing  a  gun  in  everything,  and  jumping  to 
the  window  with  horrid  imprecations.  His  carriage  was 
horsed  at  the  doors  below.  Let  the  horses  die,  he  said  ;  let 
the  coachman  have  sun-stroke.  Let  hundreds  perish,  if 
Vittoria  would  only  start  in  an  hour — in  two — to-night — to- 
morrow. 

"  Because,  do  you  see," — he  tuimed  to  Laura  and  Geor- 
giana,  submitting  to  the  vexatious  necessity  of  seeming 
reasonable  to  these  ci-eatures, — "  she  is  a  casket  for  one 
pearl.  It  is  only  one,  but  it  is  one,  mon  Dieu  !  and  inscru- 
table heaven,  mesdames,  has  made  the  holder  of  it  mad.  Her 
voice  has  but  a  sole  skin ;  it  is  not  like  a  body ;  it  bleeds  to 
death  at  a  scratch.  A  spot  on  the  pearl,  and  it  is  perished 
— pfoof !  Ah,  cruel  thing  !  impious,  I  say.  I  have  watched, 
I  have  reared  her.  S})C'ak  to  me  of  mothers  !  I  have 
cherished  her  for  her  splendid  destiny — to  see  it  go  down, 
heels  up,  among  quarrels  of  boobies  !  Yes  ;  we  have  war  in 
Italy.  Fight !  Fight  in  this  beautiful  climate  that  you 
may  be  dominated  by  a  blue  coat,  not  by  a  white  coat.  We 
are  an  intelligent  race  ;  we  are  a  civilized  people ;  we  will 
figlit  for  that.  What  has  a  voice  of  the  very  heavens  to  do 
with  your  fighting  P  I  heard  it  first  in  England,  in  a  fir- 
wood,  in  a  month  of  Spring,  at  night-time,  fifteen  miles  and 
a  quarter  from  the  city  of  London — oh,  city  of  peace ! 
Sandra — you  will  come  there.  I  give  you  thousands  addi- 
tional to  the  sum  stipulated.  You  have  no  rival.  Sandra 
T3elloni  !  no  rival,  I  say  " — ho  invoked  her  in  English, — 
"  and  you  here — you,  to  be  a  draggle-tail  vivandiere  wiz  a 


336  VITTORIA. 

brandy-bottle  at  jour  liips  and  a  reputation  going-  like  ze 
brandy.  Ah  !  pardon,  mesdames  ;  but  did  mankind  ever  see 
a  frenzy  like  this  girl's  ?  Speak,  Sandra.  I  could  cry  it 
like  Michiella  to  Camilla — Speak  !" 

Yittoria  compelled  him  to  despatch  his  horses  to  stables. 
He  had  relays  of  horses  at  war-prices  between  Castiglione 
and  Pavia,  and  a  retinue  of  servants  ;  nor  did  he  hesitate  to 
inform  the  ladies  that,  before  entrusting  his  person  to  the 
hazards  of  war,  he  had  taken  care  to  be  provided  with  safe- 
conduct  passes  for  both  armies,  as  befitted  a  prudent  man  of 
peace — "  or  sense  ;  it  is  one,  mesdames." 

ISTotwithstanding  his  terror  at  the  guns,  and  disgust  at 
the  soldiery  and  the  bad  fare  at  the  inn,  Vittoria's  presence 
kept  him  lingering  in  this  wretched  place,  though  he  cried 
continually,  "  I  shall  have  heart-disease."  He  believed  at 
first  that  he  should  subdue  her  ;  then  it  became  his  intention 
to  carry  her  off. 

It  was  to  see  Merthyr  that  she  remained.  Merthyr  came 
there  the  day  after  the  engagement  at  Santa  Lucia.  They 
had  not  met  since  the  days  at  Meran.  He  was  bronzed,  and 
keen  with  strife,  and  looked  young,  but  spoke  not  over-hope- 
fully.  He  scolded  her  for  wishing  to  taste  battle,  and  com- 
pared her  to  a  bad  swimmer  on  deep  shores.  Pericles 
bounded  with  delight  to  hear  him,  and  said  he  had  not  sup- 
posed there  was  so  much  sense  in  Powys.  Merthyr  confessed 
that  the  Austrians  had  as  good  as  beaten  them  at  Santa 
Lucia.  The  tactical  combinations  of  the  Piedmontese  were 
wretched.  He  was  enamoured  of  the  gallantry  of  the  Duke 
of  Savoy,  who  had  saved  the  right  wing  of  the  army  from 
rout  while  covering  the  backward  movement.  Why  there 
had  been  any  fight  at  all  at  Santa  Lucia,  where  nothing  was 
to  be  gained,  much  to  be  lost,  he  was  incapable  of  telling  ; 
but  attributed  it  to  an  antique  chivalry  on  the  part  of  the 
king,  that  had  prompted  the  hero  to  a  trial  of  sti-ength,  a 
bout  of  blood-letting. 

"  You  do  think  he  is  a  hero  ?"  said  Vittoi-ia. 

"  He  is  ;  and  he  will  march  to  Venice." 

"And  open  the  opera  at  Venice,"  Pericles  sneered. 
"  Powys,  mon  cher,  cure  her  of  this  beastly  dream.  It  is  a 
scandal  to  you  to  want  a  woman's  help.  You  were  defeated 
at  Santa  Lucia.  I  say  bravo  to  anything  that  brings  you  to 
reason.     Bravo !     You  hear  me." 


THE  TREACHERY  OF  PERICLES,  ETC.  337 

The  engagement  at  Santa  Lucia  was  designed  by  fhe  king 
to  serve  as  an  instigating  signal  for  the  Veronese  to  rise  in 
revolt ;  and  this  was  the  secret  of  Charles  Albert's  stultify- 
ing manoeuvres  between  Peschiera  and  Mantua.  Instead  of 
matching  his  military  skill  against  the  wary  old  Marshal's, 
he  was  offering  incentives  to  conspii-acy.  Distrusting  the 
revolution,  which  was  a  force  behind  him,  he  placed  such 
reliance  on  its  efforts  in  his  front  as  to  make  it  the  pivot  of 
his  actions. 

"  The  volunteers  North-east  of  Vicenza  are  doing  the  real 
work  for  us,  I  believe,"  said  Merthyr;  and  it  seemed  so  then, 
as  it  might  have  been  indeed,  had  they  not  been  left  almost 
entirely  to  themselves  to  do  it. 

These  tidings  of  a  fight  lost  set  Laura  and  Vittoria  quiver- 
ing with  nervous  irritation.  They  had  been  on  the  field  of 
Pastrengo,  and  it  was  won.  They  had  been  absent  from 
Santa  Lucia.  What  was  the  deduction  ?  Not  such  as  reason 
would  have  made  for  them  ;  but  they  were  at  the  mercy  of 
tlie  currents  of  the  blood.  "  Let  us  go  on,"  said  Laura. 
Mei-thyr  refused  to  convoy  them.  Pericles  drove  with  him 
an  hour  on  the  road,  and  returned  in  glee,  to  find  Vittoria 
and  Laui"a  seated  in  their  carriage,  and  Luigi  scuffling  with 
Beppo. 

"  Padrone,  see  how  I  assist  you,"  cried  Luigi. 

Upon  this  Beppo  instantly  made  a  swan's  neck  of  his  body 
and  trumpeted  :  "  A  sally  from  the  fortress  for  forage." 

"  Whip  !  whip  !  "  Pericles  shouted  to  his  coachman,  and 
the  two  carriages  parted  company  at  the  top  of  their  speed. 

Pericles  fell  a  victim  to  a  regiment  of  bersaglieri  that 
wanted  horses,  and  unceremoniously  stopped  his  pair  and 
took  possession  of  them  on  the  route  for  Peschiera.  He  was 
left  in  a  stranded  carriage  between  a  dusty  ditch  and  a  mul- 
berry bough.  Vittoria  and  Laura  were  not  much  luckier. 
They  were  met  by  a  band  of  deserters,  who  made  no  claim 
upon  the  horses,  but  stood  for  drink,  and  having  therewith 
fortified  their  fine  opinion  of  themselves,  petitioned  for  money. 
A  kiss  was  their  next  demand.  IMoney  and  good  humour 
saved  the  women  from  indignity.  The  band  of  rascals  went 
off  with  a  '  Viva  I'ltalia.'  Siieh  scum  is  ujion  every  popular 
rising,  as  Vittoria  had  to  learn.  Days  of  rain  and  an  incom- 
prehensible inactivity  of  the  royal  arm}^  kept  her  at  a 
miseiable  inn,  where  the  walls  were  bare,  tlie  cuck  had  crowed 


338  VITTORIA. 

his  last.  The  guns  of  Pescliiera  seemed  to  roam  over  the 
plain  like  an  echo  unwillingly  aroused  that  seeks  a  hollow  for 
its  further  sleep.  Laura  sat  pondeinng  for  hours,  harsh  in 
manner,  as  if  she  hated  her.  "  I  think,"  she  said  once,  "that 
women  are  those  persons  who  have  done  evil  in  another 
world."  The  "  why  ?  "  from  Yittoria  was  uttered  simply  to 
awaken  friendly  talk,  hut  Laura  relapsed  into  her  gloom. 
A  village  priest,  a  sleek  gentle  creature,  who  shook  his  head 
to  earth  when  he  hoped,  and  filled  his  nostrils  with  snufi 
when  he  desponded,  gave  them  occasional  companionship 
under  the  title  of  consolation.  He  wished  the  Austrians  to 
be  beaten,  remarking,  however,  that  they  were  good  Catholics, 
most  fervent  Catholics.  As  the  Lord  decided,  so  it  would 
end !  "  Oh,  delicious  creed  !  "  Laura  broke  out :  "  Oh,  dear 
and  sweet  doctrine !  that  results  and  developments  in  a 
world  where  there  is  more  evil  than  good  are  approved  by 
heaven."  She  twisted  the  mild  man  in  supple  steel  of  her 
irony  so  tenderly  that  Vittoria  marvelled  to  hear  her  speak 
of  him  in  abhoiTcnce  Avhen  they  quitted  the  village,  "l^ot 
to  be  born  a  woman,  and  voluntarily  to  be  a  woman  !  "  ejacu 
lated  Laura.  "  How  many,  how  many  are  we  to  deduct  from 
the  male  population  of  Italy  ?  Cross  in  hand,  he  should  be 
at  the  head  of  our  arms,  not  whimpering  in  a  corner  for  white 
bread.  Wretch  !  he  makes  the  marrow  in  my  bones  rage  at 
him.     He  chronicled  a  pig  that  squeaked." 

Why  had  she  been  so  gentle  with  him  ? 

"  Because,  my  dear,  when  I  loaihe  a  thing  I  never  care  to 
exhaust  my  detestation  before  I  can  stiike  it,"  said  the  true 
Italian. 

They  were  on  the  field  of  Goito  ;  it  was  won.  It  was  won 
against  odds.  At  Pastrengo  they  witnessed  an  encounter  ;  this 
was  a  battle.  Vittoria  perceived  that  there  was  the  difference 
between  a  symphony  and  a  lyric  song.  The  blessedness  of  the 
sensation  that  death  can  be  light  and  easy  dispossessed  her  of 
the  meaner  compassion,  half  made  up  of  cowardice,  which  she 
had  been  nearly  borne  down  by  on  the  field  of  Pastrengo. 
At  an  angle  on  a  height  off  the  left  wing  of  the  royal  army 
the  face  of  the  battle  was  plain  to  her  :  the  movements  of  the 
troops  were  clear  as  strokes  on  a  slate.  liaura  flung  lier  life 
into  her  eyes,  and  knelt  and  watched,  without  summing  one 
Bole  thing  from  what  her  senses  received. 

Vittoria  said,  "  We  are  too  far  away  to  understand  it. 


» 


THE  TREACHERY  OF  PERICLES,  ETC.  339 

"No,"  said  Lanra,  "  we  are  too  far  away  io  feel  it." 

The  savage  soul  of  the  woman  was  robbed  of  its  share  of 
trajT;ic  emotion  by  having  to  hold  so  far  aloof.  Plashes  of 
q-uns  were  but  flashes  of  guns  up  there  where  she  knelt.  She 
thirsted  to  read  the  things  written  by  them;  thirsted  for 
their  mystic  terrors,  somewhat  as  souls  of  great  prophets 
have  craved  for  the  full  revelation  of  those  fitful  underlights 
"»vhich  inspired  their  mouths. 

Charles  Albert's  star  was  at  its  highest  when  the  Piedmon- 
tese  drums  beat  for  an  advance  of  the  whole  line  at  Goito. 

Laura  stood  up,  white  as  furnace-fire.  "  Women  can  do 
some  good  by  praying,"  she  said.  She  believed  that  she  had 
been  praying.     That  was  her  part  in  the  victory. 

Rain  fell  as  from  the  forehead  of  thunder.  From  black 
eve  to  black  dawn  the  women  were  among  dead  and  dying 
men,  where  the  lanterns  trailed  a  slow  flame  across  faces 
that  took  the  light  and  let  it  go.  They  returned  to  their 
carriage  exhausted.  The  ways  were  almost  impassable  for 
carriage-wheels.  While  they  were  toiling  on  and  exchang- 
ing their  drenched  clothes,  Vittoria  heard  Merthyr's  voice 
speaking  to  Beppo  on  the  box.  He  was  saying  that  Captain 
Gambier  lay  badly  wounded  ;  brandy  was  wanted  for  him. 
She  flung  a  cloak  over  Laura,  and  handed  out  the  flask  with 
a  naked  arm.  It  was  not  till  she  saw  him  again  that  she 
remembered  or  even  felt  that  he  had  kissed  the  arm.  A 
spot  of  sweet  fire  burned  on  it  just  where  the  soft  fulness  of 
a  woman's  arm  slopes  to  the  bend.  He  chid  her  for  being 
on  the  field  and  rejoiced  in  a  breath,  for  the  carriage  and 
its  contents  helped  to  rescue  his  wounded  brother  in  arms 
from  probable  death.  Gambier,  wounded  in  thigh  and  ankle 
by  rifle-shot,  was  placed  in  the  carriage.  His  clothes  were 
saturated  with  the  soil  of  Goito ;  but  wounded  and  wet,  he 
smiled  gaily,  and  talked  sweet  boyish  English.  Merthyr 
gave  the  driver  directions  to  wind  along  up  the  IMincio. 
"  Georgiana  will  be  at  the  nearest  village — she  has  an 
instinct  for  battle-fields,  or  keeps  spies  in  her  pay,"  he  said. 
"  Tell  her  I  am  safe.  We  march  to  cut  them  (the  enemy) 
oft"  from  Verona,  and  I  can't  leave.  The  game  is  in  our 
hands.     We  shall  give  you  Venice." 

Georgiana  was  found  at  the  nearest  village.  Gam])io7''a 
wounds  had  been  di-essed  by  an  army-surgeon.  She  looked 
at   the   dressing,  and  said  that  it  would  do  for  six  hours, 

z2 


340  VITTORIA. 

This  singular  person  had  fully  qualified  herself  to  attend 
on  a  soldier-brother.  She  had  studied  medicine  for  that 
purpose,  and  she  had  served  as  nurse  in  a  London  hospital. 
Her  nerves  were  completely  under  control.  She  could  sit 
in  attendance  by  a  sick-bed  for  hours,  hearing  distant  cannon, 
and  the  brawl  of  soldiery  and  vagabonds  in  the  street,  with- 
out a  change  of  countenance.  Her  di-ess  was  plain  black 
from  throat  to  heel,  with  a  skull  cap  of  white,  like  a 
Moravian  sister.  Vittoria  reverenced  her ;  but  Georgiana's 
manner  in  return  was  cold  aversion,  so  much  more  scornful 
than  disdain  that  it  olfended  Laura,  who  promptly  put 
her  finger  on  the  blot  in  the  fair  character  with  the  word 
'  Jealousy ;'  but  a  single  word  is  too  broad  a  mark  to  be 
exactly  true.  "  She  is  a  perfect  example  of  your  English," 
Laura  said.  "  Brave,  good,  devoted,  admirable — ice  to  the 
heart.  The  judge  of  others,  of  course.  I  always  respected 
her ;  I  never  liked  her ;  and  I  should  be  afraid  of  a  com- 
parison with  her.  Her  management  of  the  household  of 
this  inn  is  extraordinary." 

Georgiana  condescended  to  advise  Vittoria  once  more  not 
to  dangle  after  armies. 

"  I  wish  to  wait  here  to  assist  you  in  nursing  our  friend," 
said  Vittoria. 

Georgiana  replied  that  her  strength  was  unlikely  to  fail. 

After  two  days  of  incessant  rain,  sunshine  blazed  over 
the  watery  Mantuan  flats.  Laura  drove  with  Beppo  to  see 
whether  the  army  was  in  motion,  for  they  were  distracted 
by  rumours.  Vittoria  clung  to  her  wounded  friend,  whose 
pleasure  was  the  hearing  her  speak.  She  expected  Laura's 
return  by  set  of  sun.  After  dark  a  messenger  came  to  her, 
saying  that  the  signora  had  sent  a  carriage  to  fetch  her  to 
Valeggio.  Her  immediate  supposition  was  that  Merthyr 
might  have  fallen.  She  found  Luigi  at  the  carriage- door, 
and  listened  to  his  mysterious  directions  and  remarks  that 
not  a  minute  must  be  lost,  without  suspicion.  He  said  that 
the  signora  was  in  great  trouble,  very  anxious  to  see  the 
signorina  instantly ;  there  was  but  a  distance  of  five  miles 
to  traverse. 

She  thought  it  strange  that  the  carriage  should  be  so 
luxuriously  fitted  with  lights  and  silken  pillows,  but  her 
ideas  were  all  of  Merthyr,  until  she  by  chance  discovered  a 
packet  marked  '  chocolate,'  which  told  her  at  once  that  she 


THE  TEEACHERY  OP  PERICLES,  ETC.  341 

was  entrapped  by  Antonio-Pericles.     Luigi  would  not  answer 
her  cry  to  liim.     After  some  fruitless  tremblings  of  wratli, 
she  lay  back  relieved  by  the  feeling  that  Merthyr  was  safe, 
come  what  might  come  to  herself.     Things  could  lead  to 
nothing  but  an  altercation  with  Pericles,  and  for  this  scene 
she  prepared  her  mind.      The  carriage  stopped  while  she 
was  dozing.     Too  proud  to  supplicate  in  the  darkness,  she 
left  it  to  the  horses  to  bear  her  on,  reserving  her  energies 
for  the  morning's  interview,  and  saying,  "  The  farther  he 
takes  me  the  angrier  I  shall   be."      She  dreamed  of  her 
anger  while  asleep,  but  awakened  so  frequently  during  the 
night  that  morning  was  at  her  eyelids  befoi'e  they  divided. 
To    her   amazement   she  saw   the   carriage  surrounded   by 
Austrian  troopers.      Pericles    was  spreading  cigars  among 
them,  and  addressing  them  affably.     The  carriage  was  on  a 
good  road,  between  irrigated  flats,  that  flashed  a  lively  green 
and  bright  steel  blue  for  miles  away.     She  drew  down  the 
blinds  to  cry  at  leisure ;  her  wings  were  clipped,  and  she 
lost  heart.     Pericles  came  round  to  her  when  the  carriage 
had  drawn  up  at  an  inn.     He  was  egregiously  polite,  but 
modestly  kept  back  any  expressions  of  triumph.     A  body 
of  Austrians,  cavalry  and   infantry,  were    breaking  camp. 
Pericles  accorded  her  an  hour  of  rest.     She  perceived  that 
he  was  anticipating  an  outbreak  of  the  anger  she  had  nursed 
overnight,  and  bafHod  him  so  far  by  keeping  dumb.     Luigi 
was  sent  up  to  her  to  announce  the  expiration  of  her  hour  of 
grace.     "  Ah,  Luigi  !"  she  said.     "  Signorina,  only  wait,  and 
see  how  Luigi  can  serve  two,"  he  whispered,  writhing  under 
the  reproachfulness  of  her  eyes.     At  the  cairiage  door  she 
asked  Pericles  whither  he  was  taking  her.     "  Not  to  Turin, 
not  to  London,  Sandra  Belloni !"  he  replied  ;  "  not  to  a  place 
where  you  are  wet  all  night  long,  to  wheeze  for  ever  after  it. 
Go  in."     She  entered  the  carriage  quickly,  to  escape  from 
staring  officers,  whose  laughter  rang  in  her  ears  and  humbled 
her   bitterly ;   she   felt    herself    bringing   dishonour   on  her 
lover.    The  carriage  continued  in  the  track  of  the  Austrians. 
Pericles  was  audibly  careful  to  avoid  the  border  regiments. 
He  showered  cigars  as  he  passed ;  now  and  then  he  exhibited 
a  paper ;  and  on  one  occasion  he  brought  a  General  officer  to 
the  carriage-door,  opened  it  and  pointed  in.     A  white-hcl- 
meted  dragoon  rode   on  each    side  of   the  carriage   for  the 
remainder  of  the  day.     The  delight  of  the  supposition  that 


342  VITTORIA. 

these  Anstrians  were  retreating  before  the  invincible  arms 
of  King  Carlo  Alberto  kept  her  cheerful ;  but  she  heard  no 
guns  in  the  rear.  A  blocking  of  artillery  and  waggons  com- 
pelled a  halt,  and  then  Pericles  came  and  faced  her.  He 
looked  profoundly  ashamed  of  himself,  ready  as  he  was  for 
an  animated  defence  of  his  proceedings. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me,  sir  ?"  she  said  in  English. 

"  Sandra,  will  you  be  a  good  child  ?  It  is  anywhere  you 
please,  if  you  will  promise " 

"  1  will  promise  nothing." 

"  Zen,  I  lock  you  up  in  Verona." 

"  In  Verona!" 

"  Sandra,  will  you  promise  to  me  ?" 

"  I  will  promise  nothing." 

"  Zen  I  lock  you  up  in  Verona.  It  is  settled.  No  more 
of  it.  I  come  to  say,  we  shall  not  reach  a  village.  I  am 
sorry.  We  have  soldiers  for  a  guard.  You  draw  out  a 
board  and  lodge  in  your  carriage  as  in  a  bed.  Biscuits, 
potted  meats,  prunes,  bon-bons,  chocolate,  wine — you  shall 
find  all  at  your  right  hand  and  your  left.  I  am  desolate  in 
offending  you.     Sandra,  if  you  will  promise " 

"  I  will  promise — this  is  what  I  will  promise,"  said 
Vittoria. 

Pericles  thrust  his  ear  forward,  and  withdrew  it  as  if  it 
had  been  slapped. 

She  promised  to  run  from  him  at  the  first  opportunity,  to 
despise  him  ever  after,  and  never  to  sing  again  in  his  hear- 
ing. With  the  darkness  Luigi  appeared  to  light  her  lamp; 
he  mouthed  perpetually,  "  To-morrow,  to-morrow."  The 
watch-fires  of  Austrians  encamped  in  the  fields  encircled 
her ;  and  moving  up  and  down,  the  cigar  of  Antonio- Pericles 
was  visible.  He  had  not  eaten  or  di-unk,  and  he  was  out 
there  sleepless  ;  he  walked  conquering  his  fears  in  the  thick 
of  war  troubles  :  all  for  her  sake.  She  watched  critically  to 
see  whether  the  cigar-light  was  puffed  in  fretfulness.  It 
bui'ned  steadily ;  and  the  thought  of  Pericles  supporting 
patience  quite  overcame  her.  In  a  fit  of  humour  that  was 
almost  tears,  she  called  to  him  and  begged  him  to  take  a 
place  in.  the  carriage  and  have  food.  "  If  it  is  your  plea- 
sure," he  said ;  and  threw  off  his  cloak.  The  wine  comforted 
him.  Thereupon  he  commenced  a  series  of  strange  gesticu- 
lations, and  ended  by  blinking  at  the  window,  saying,  "  No, 


THE  TREACHERY  OP  PERICLES,  ETC.  343 

no ;  it  is  impossible  to  explain.  I  liave  no  voice ;  T  am  not 
gifted.  It  is,"  he  tapped  at  his  chest,  "  it  is  here.  It  is 
imprisoned  in  me." 

"  What  ?"  said  Vittoria,  to  encourage  him. 

"  It  can  never  be  explained,  my  child.  Am  I  not  respect- 
ful to  you  ?  Am  I  not  worshipful  to  you  ?  But,  no  !  it  can 
never  be  explained.  Some  do  call  me  mad.  I  know  it ;  1 
am  laughed  at.  Oh !  do  I  not  know  zat  ?  Perfectly  well. 
My  ancestors  adored  Goddesses.  I  discover  ze  voice  of  a 
Goddess  :  I  adore  it.  So  you  call  me  mad ;  it  is  to  me — 
what  you  call  me — juste  ze  same.  I  am  possessed  wiz  pas- 
sion for  her  voice.  So  it  will  be  till  I  go  to  ashes.  It  is  to 
me  ze  one  zsing  divine  in  a  pig,  a  porpoise  world.  It  is  to 
me — T  talk  !     It  is  unutterable — impossible  to  tell." 

"  But  I  understand  it ;  I  know  you  must  feel  it,"  said 
Vittoria. 

"  But  you  hate  me,  Sandra.     You  hate  your  Pericles." 

"  No,  I  do  not ;  you  are  my  good  friend,  my  good 
Pericles." 

"  I  am  your  good  Pericles  ?     So  you  obey  me  ?" 

"  In  what  ?" 

*'  You  come  to  London  ?'* 

"  I  shall  not." 

"  You  come  to  Tui-in  ?" 

*'  I  cannot  promise." 

"  To  Milan  ?" 

♦'  No  ;  not  yet." 

"  Ungrateful  little  beast !  minx  !  temptress !  You  seduce 
me  into  your  carriage  to  feed  me,  to  fill  me,  for  to  coax  me," 
cried  Pericles. 

''  Am  I  the  person  to  have  abuse  poured  on  vie  ?"  Vittoria 
rejoined,  and  she  frowned.  "  Might  I  not  have  called  you  a 
Avretched  whimsical  money-machine,  without  the  comprehen- 
sion of  a  human  feeling  ?  You  are  doing  me  a  great  wrong 
— to  win  my  submission,  as  I  see,  and  it  half  amuses  me ; 
but  the  pretence  of  an  attempt  to  carry  me  off  from  my 
friends  is  an  offence  that  I  should  take  certain  care  to  punish 
in  another.  I  do  not  give  you  any  promise,  because  the  first 
promise  of  all — the  promise  to  keep  one — is  not  in  my  power. 
Shut  your  eyes  and  sleep  where  you  are,  and  in  the  morning 
think  better  of  your  conduct !" 

"  Of  my  conduce,  mademoiselle  I"     Pericles  retained  thia 


344  VITTORIA, 

sentence  in  his  Lead  till  tlie  conclusion  of  her  animated 
speech, — "  of  my  conduct  I  judge  better  zan  to  accept  of 
such  a  privilege  as  you  graciously  offer  to  me  ;"  and  he 
retired  with  a  sour  grin,  very  much  subdued  by  her  unex- 
pected capacity  for  expression.  The  bugles  of  the  Austrians 
were  soon  ringing.  There  was  a  trifle  of  a  romantic  flavour 
in  the  notes  which  Vittoria  tried  not  to  feel ;  the  smart 
iteration  of  them  all  about  her  rubbed  it  off,  but  she  was 
reduced  to  repeat  them,  and  take  them  in  various  keys. 
This  was  her  theme  for  the  day.  They  were  in  the  midst  of 
mulbei-ries,  out  of  sight  of  the  army  ;  green  mulberries,  and 
the  green  and  the  bronze  young  vine-leaf.  It  was  a  delicious 
day,  but  she  began  to  fear  that  she  was  approaching  Verona, 
and  that  Pericles  was  acting  seriously.  The  bronze  young 
vine-leaf  seemed  to  her  like  some  warrior's  face,  as  it  would 
look  when  beaten  by  weather,  burned  by  the  sun.  They 
came  now  to  inns  which  had  been  visited  by  both  armies. 
Luigi  established  communication  with  the  innkeepers  before 
the  latter  had  stated  the  names  of  villages  to  Pericles,  who 
stood  naap  in  hand,  believing  himself  at  last  to  be  no  more 
conscious  of  his  position  than  an  atom  in  a  whirl  of  dust. 
Vittoria  still  refused  to  give  him  any  promise,  and  finally, 
on  a  solitary  stretch  of  the  road,  he  appealed  to  her  mercy. 
She  was  the  mistress  of  the  carriage,  he  said ;  he  had  never 
meant  to  imprison  her  in  Verona ;  his  behaviour  was  simply 
dictated  by  his  adoration : — alas !  This  was  true  or  not 
true,  but  it  was  certain  that  the  ways  were  confounded  to 
them.  Luigi,  despatched  to  reconnoitre  from  a  neighbouring 
eminence,  reported  a  Piedmontese  encampment  far  ahead, 
and  a  walking  tent  that  was  coming  on  their  route.  The 
walking  tent  was  an  enormous  white  umbrella.  Pericles 
advanced  to  meet  it ;  after  an  interchange  of  opening  forma- 
lities, he  turned  about  and  clapped  hands.  The  umbrella 
was  folded.  Vittoria  recognized  the  last  man  she  would 
then  have  thought  of  meeting ;  he  seemed  to  have  jumped 
out  of  an  ambush  from  Meran  in  Tyrol  : — it  was  Wilfrid. 
Their  greeting  was  disturbed  by  the  rushing  up  of  half-a- 
dozen  trooi^ers.  The  men  claimed  him  as  an  Austrian  spy. 
With  difficulty  Vittoria  obtained  leave  to  drive  him  on  to 
their  commanding  officer.  It  appeared  that  the  white 
•umbrella  was  notorious  for  having  been  seen  on  previous 
occasions  threading  the  Piedmontese  lines  into  and  out  ol 


THE  TREACHERY  0¥  PERICLES,  ETC  345 

Pescliiera.  These  very  troopers  swore  to  it ;  but  tliey  could 
not  ssvear  to  Wilfrid,  and  white  umbrellas  were  not  absolutely 
uucommon.  Yittoria  declared  that  Wilfrid  was  an  old  Eng- 
lish friend ;  Pericles  vowed  that  Wilfrid  was  one  of  their 
party.  The  prisoner  Avas  clearly  an  Englishman.  As  it 
chanced,  the  officer  before  whom  Wilfrid  was  taken  had 
heard  Vittoria  sing  on  the  great  night  at  La  Scala.  "  Sig- 
norina,  your  word  should  pass  the  Austrian  Field-Marshal 
himself,"  he  said,  and  merely  requested  Wilfrid  to  state  on 
his  word  of  honour  that  he  was  not  in  the  Austrian  sei'vice, 
to  which  Wilfrid  unhesitatingly  replied,  "  I  am  not." 

Permission  was  then  accorded  to  him  to  proceed  in  the 


carnage. 


Vittoria  held  her  hand  to  Wilfrid.  He  took  the  fingers 
and  bowed  over  them. 

He  was  perfectly  self-possessed,  and  cool  even  under  her 
eyes.  Like  a  pedlar  he  carried  a  pack  on  his  back,  which 
was  his  life ;  for  his  business  was  a  combination  of  scout 
and  spy. 

"You  have  saved  me  from  a  ditch  to-day,"  he  said; 
**  every  fellow  has  some  sort  of  love  for  his  life,  and  I  must 
thank  you  for  the  odd  luck  of  your  coming  by.  I  knew  you 
were  on  this  ground  somewhere.  If  the  rascals  had  searched 
me,  I  should  not  have  come  off  so  well.  I  did  not  speak 
falsely  to  that  officer ;  I  am  not  in  the  Austrian  service.  I 
am  a  volunteer  spy.  I  am  an  unpaid  soldier.  I  am  the  dog 
of  the  army — fetching  and  carrying  for  a  smile  and  a  pat  on 
the  head.  I  am  ruined,  and  I  am  working  my  way  up  as 
best  I  can.  My  uncle  disowns  me.  It  is  to  General  Schoneck 
that  I  owe  this  chance  of  re-establishing  myself.  I  followed 
the  army  out  of  Milan.  I  was  at  Melegnano,  at  Pastrengo, 
at  Santa  Lucia.  If  I  get  nothing  for  it,  the  Lenkensteins  at 
least  shall  not  say  that  I  abandoned  the  flag  in  adversity. 
I  am  bound  for  Rivoli.  The  fortress  (Pescliiera)  has  just 
surrendered.  The  Marslial  is  stealing  round  to  make  a  dash 
on  Vicenza."  So  far  he  spoke  like  one  apart  from  her,  but 
a  flush  crossed  his  forehead.  "  I  have  not  followed  you.  I 
have  obeyed  your  brief  directions.  I  saw  this  carriage 
yesterday  in  the  ranks  of  our  troops.  I  saw  Pericles.  I 
guessed  who  might  be  inside  it.  I  let  it  pass  me.  Could  I 
do  more  ?" 

"  Not  if  you  wanted  to  punish  me,"  said  Vittoria. 


346  VITTORIA. 

She  was  afflicted  by  his  refraining  from  teproacTies  in  his 
sunken  state. 

Their  talk  bordered  the  old  life  whicb  they  had  known, 
like  a  rivulet  coming-  to  falls  where  it  thi-eatens  to  be  a  tor- 
rent and  a  flood  ;  like  flame  bubbling  the  wax  of  a  seal.  She 
was  surprised  to  find  herself  expecting  tenderness  from  him: 
and,  startled  by  the  languor  in  her  veins,  she  conceived  a 
contempt  for  her  sex  and  her  own  weak  nature.  To  mask 
that,  an  excessive  outward  coldness  was  assumed.  "  You 
can  serve  as  a  spy,  Wilfrid  !" 

The  answer  was  ready  :  "  Having  twice  served  as  a  traitor, 
I  need  not  be  particular.  It  is  what  my  uncle  and  the 
Lenkensteins  call  me.  I  do  my  best  to  work  my  way  up 
again.     Despise  me  for  it,  if  you  please." 

On  the  contrary,  she  had  never  respected  him  so  much. 
She  got  herself  into  opposition  to  him  by  ])rovoking  him  to 
speak  with  pride  of  his  army  ;  but  the  opposition  was  artifi- 
cial, and  she  called  to  Carlo  Ammiani  in  heart.  "  I  will 
leave  these  places,  cover  up  my  head,  and  crouch  till  the 
struggle  is  decided." 

The  diflficulty  was  now  to  be  happily  rid  of  Wilfrid  by 
leaving  him  in  safety.  Piedmontese  hoi-se  scoured  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  any  mischance  that  might  befall  him  she 
traced  to  her  hand.  She  dreaded  at  every  instant  to  hear 
him  speak  of  his  love  for  her ;  yet  how  sweet  it  would  have 
been  to  hear  it, — to  hear  him  speak  of  passionate  love  ;  to 
shape  it  in  deep  music ;  to  hear  one  crave  for  what  she  gave 
to  another!  "I  am  sinking:  I  am  growing  degraded,"  she 
thought.  But  there  was  no  other  way  for  her  to  quicken 
her  imagination  of  her  distant  and  offended  lover.  The 
sights  on  the  plains  were  strange  contrasts  to  these  con- 
flicting inner  emotions  :  she  seemed  to  be  living  in  two 
divided  worlds. 

Pericles  declared  anew  that  she  was  mistress  of  the  car- 
riage. She  issued  orders  :  "  The  nearest  point  to  Rivoli,  and 
then  to  Brescia." 

Pericles  broke  into  shouts.  "  She  has  arrived  at  her 
reason  '  Hurrah  for  Brescia  !  I  beheld  you,"  he  confessed 
to  Wilfi^id, — "  it  was  on  ze  right  of  Mincio,  my  friend.  I 
did  not  know  you  were  so  true  for  Art,  or  what  a  hand  I 
would  have  reached  to  you !  Excuse  me  now.  Let  us  whip 
on.     I  am  your  banker.     I  shall  desii'e  you  not  to  be  shot  or 


THE  TREACHERY  OF  PERICLES,  ETC.  347 

sabred.  Ton  are  deserving  of  an  eflfigy  on  a  theatral  grand 
stair-case !"  His  gratitude  could  no  further  express  itself. 
In  joy  he  whipped  the  horses  on.  Fools  might  be  fighting — 
he  was  the  conqueror.  From  Brescia,  one  leap  took  him  in 
fancy  to  London.  He  composed  mentally  a  letter  to  be  for- 
warded immediately  to  a  London  manager,  directing  him  to 
cause  the  appearance  of  articles  in  the  journals  on  the  grand 
new  prima  donna,  whose  singing  had  awakened  the  people 
of  Italy. 

Another  day  brought  them  in  view  of  the  Lago  di  Garda. 
The  flag  of  Sardinia  hung  from  the  walls  of  Peschiera.  And 
now  Vittoria  saw  the  Pastrengo  hills — dear  hills,  that  drove 
her  wretched  languor  out  of  her,  and  made  her  soul  and 
body  one  again.  The  horses  were  going  at  a  gallop.  Shots 
were  heard.  To  the  left  of  them,  somewhat  in  the  rear,  on 
higher  ground,  there  was  an  encounter  of  a  body  of  Aus- 
trians  and  Italians :  Tyrolese  riflemen  and  the  volunteers. 
Pericles  was  raving.  He  refused  to  draw  the  reins  till  they 
had  reached  the  village,  where  one  of  the  horses  dropped. 
From  the  windows  of  the  inn,  fronting  a  clear  space,  Vittoria 
beheld  a  guard  of  Austrians  surrounding  two  or  more  pri- 
soners. A  woman  sat  near  them  with  her  head  buried  in 
her  lap.  Presently  an  officer  left  the  door  of  the  inn  and 
spoke  to  the  soldiers.  "  That  is  Count  Karl  von  Lenken- 
stein,"  Wilfrid  said  in  a  whisper.  Pericles  had  been  speak- 
ing with  Count  Karl  and  came  up  to  the  room,  saying,  "  We 
are  to  observe  something ;  but  we  are  safe ;  it  is  only  the 
fortune  of  war."  Wilfi-id  immediately  went  out  to  report 
himself.  He  was  seen  giving  his  papers,  after  which  Count 
Karl  waved  his  finger  back  to  the  inn,  and  he  returned. 
Vittoria  sprang  to  her  feet  at  the  words  he  uttered.  Rinaldo 
Guidascarpi  was  one  of  the  prisoners.  The  others  Wilfrid 
professed  not  to  know.  The  woman  was  the  wife  of  Barto 
Rizzo. 

In  the  great  red  of  sunset  the  Tyrolese  riflemen  and  a 
body  of  Italians  in  Austrian  fatigue  uniform  marched  into 
the  village.  These  formed  in  the  space  before  the  inn.  It 
seemed  as  if  Count  Karl  were  declaiming  an  indictment.  A 
voice  answered,  "  I  am  the  man."  It  was  clear  and  straight 
as  a  voice  that  goes  up  in  the  night.  Then  a  procession 
walked  some  paces  on.  The  woman  followed.  She  fell 
prostrate  at  the  feet  of  Count  Karl,     lie  listened  to  her  and 


348  VITTORIA. 

nodded.  Rinaldo  Guidascarpi  stood  alone  with  bandaged 
eyes.  The  woman  advanced  to  him  ;  she  put  her  mouth  on 
his  ear ;  there  she  hung. 

Vittoria  heard  a   single   shot.     Rinaldo  Guidascarpi   lay 
stretched  upon  the  ground,  and  the  woman  stood  over  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
EPISODES  OF  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. 

COUNT  KARL  LENKENSTEIN. — THE  STORY  OF  THE  GUIDASCARPI.— 
THE  VICTORY  OP  THE  VOLUNTEERS. 

The  smoke  of  a  pistol-shot  thinned  away  wdiile  there  was 
yet  silence. 

"  It  is  a  saving  of  six  charges  of  Austrian  ammunition," 
said  Pericles. 

Vittoria  stared  at  the  scene,  losing  faith  in  her  eyesight. 
She  could  in  fact  see  no  distinct  thing  beyond  what  appeared 
as  an  illuminated  copper  medallion,  held  at  a  great  distance 
from  her,  with  a  dead  man  and  a  towering  female  figure 
stamped  on  it. 

The  events  following  were  like  a  rush  of  water  on  her 
senses.  There  was  fighting  up  the  street  of  the  village,  and 
a  struggle  in  the  sjjace  where  Rinaldo  had  fallen;  successive 
yellowish  shots  under  the  rising  moonlight,  cries  from 
Italian  lips,  quick  words  of  command  from  German  in 
Italian,  and  one  sturdy  bull's  roar  of  a  voice  that  called 
across  the  tumult  to  the  Austro-Italian  soldiery,  "  Venite 
fratelli! — come,  brothers,  come  under  our  banner!"  She 
heard  "  Rinaldo  !"  called. 

This  was  a  second  attack  of  the  volunteers  for  the  rescue 
of  their  captured  comrades.  They  fought  more  desperately 
than  on  the  hill  outside  the  village  :  they  fought  with  steel. 
Shot  enfiladed  them ;  yet  they  bore  forward  in  a  scattered 
body  up  to  that  spot  where  Rinaldo  lay,  shouting  for  him. 
There  they  turned, — they  fled. 

Then  there  was  a  perfect  stillness,  succeeding  the  strife  as 
quickly,  Vittoria  thought,  as  a  breath  yielded  succeeds  a 
breath  taken. 


COUNT  KARL  LENKENSTEIN,  ETC.  349 

She  accused  tho  heavcus  of  injustice. 

Pericles,  prostrate  on  the  floor,  moaned  that  he  was 
wounded.     She  said,  "  Bleed  to  death !" 

"  It  is  my  soul,  it  is  my  soul  is  wounded  for  you, 
Sandra." 

"  Dreadful  craven  man  !"  she  muttered. 

"When  my  soul  is  shaking  for  youi'  safety,  Sandra  Belloni!" 
Pericles  turned  his  ear  up.  "  For  myself — nothing;  it  is  for 
you,  for  you." 

Assured  of  the  cessation  of  arms  by  delicious  silence  he 
jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Ah!  brutes  that  fight.    It  is  immonde  ;  it  is  unnataral!" 

He  tapped  his  finger  on  the  walls  for  marks  of  shot,  and 
discovered  a  shot-hole  in  the  wood- work,  that  had  passed  an 
arm's  length  above  her  head,  into  which  he  thrust  his  finger 
in  an  intense  speculative  meditation,  shifting  eyes  from  it  to 
her,  and  throwing  them  aloft. 

He  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of  Count  Karl,  with 
whom  he  found  Captain  Weisspriess,  Wilfrid,  and  officers  of 
jagers  and  the  Italian  battalion.  Barto  Rizzo's  wife  was  in 
a  corner  of  the  room.  Weisspriess  met  him  with  a  very 
civil  greeting,  and  introduced  him  to  Count  Karl,  who 
begged  him  to  thank  Vittoria  for  the  aid  she  had  afforded 
to  General  Schoneck's  emissary  in  crossing  the  Piedmontese 
lines.  He  spoke  in  Italian.  He  agreed  to  conduct  Pericles 
to  a  point  on  the  route  of  his  march  where  Pericles  and  his 
precious  prima  donna — "  our  very  good  friend,"  he  said, 
jovially — could  escay)e  the  risk  of  unpleasant  mishaps,  and 
arrive  at  Trent  and  cities  of  peace  by  easy  stages.  He  was 
marching  for  the  neighbourhood  of  Vicenza. 

A  little  before  dawn  Vittoi-ia  came  down  to  the  carriage. 
Count  Karl  stood  at  the  door  to  hand  her  in.  He  was  young 
and  handsome,  with  a  soft  flowing  blonde  moustache  and 
pleasant  eyes,  a  conti-ast  to  his  brother  Count  Leukenstein. 
He  repeated  his  thanks  to  her,  which  Pericles  had  not 
delivered  ;  he  informed  her  that  she  was  by  no  means  a 
prisoner,  and  was  simply  under  the  guardianship  of  friends 
— "  though  perhaps,  signorina,  you  will  not  esteem  this 
gentleman  to  be  one  of  your  friends."  He  pointed  to  Weiss- 
priess. The  captain  bowed,  but  kept  aloof.  Vittoria  per- 
ceived a  singula)'  change  in  him :  he  had  become  pale  and 
Bcdate.      "  Poor  fellow !  he  has   had  his  dose,"  said  Count 


350  VITTORIA. 

Karl.  "  He  is,  I  beg  to  assure  you,  one  of  your  most 
vehement  admirers." 

A  piece  of  her  property  that  flushed  her  with  recollec- 
tions, yet  made  her  grateful,  was  presently  handed  to  her, 
though  not  in  the  captain's  presence,  by  a  soldier.  It  was 
the  silver-hilted  dagger,  Carlo's  precious  gift,  of  which 
Weisspriess  had  taken  possession  in  the  mountain-pass  over 
the  vale  of  Meran,  when  he  fought  the  duel  with  Angelo, 
Whether  intended  as  a  peace-offering,  or  as  a  simple  restitu- 
tion, it  helped  Vittoria  to  believe  that  Weisspriess  was  no 
longer  the  man  he  had  been. 

The  march  was  ready,  but  Barto  Rizzo's  wife  refused  to 
move  a  foot.  The  officers  consulted.  She  was  broup-ht 
before  them.  The  soldiers  swore  with  jesting  oaths  that 
she  had  been  carefully  searched  for  weapons,  and  only 
wanted  a  whipping.  "  She  must  have  it,"  said  Weisspriess. 
Vittoria  enti'eated  that  she  might  have  a  place  beside  her  in 
the  carriage.  "It  is  more  than  I  would  have  asked  of  you ; 
but  if  you  are  not  afraid  of  her,"  said  Count  Karl,  with  an 
apologetic  shrug. 

Her  heart  beat  fast  when  she  found  herself  alone  with  the 
terrible  woman. 

Till  then  she  had  never  seen  a  tragic  face.  Compared 
with  this  tawny  colourlessness,  this  evil  brow,  this  shut 
mouth,  Laura,  even  on  the  battle-field,  looked  harmless.  It 
was  like  the  face  of  a  dead  savage.  The  eyeballs  were  full 
on  Vittoria,  as  if  they  dashed  at  an  obstacle,  not  embraced 
an  image.  In  proportion  as  they  seemed  to  widen  about 
her,  Vittoria  shrank.  The  whole  woman  was  blood  to  her 
gaze. 

When  she  was  capable  of  speaking,  she  said  entreat- 
ingly— 

"  I  knew  his  brother." 

Not  a  sign  of  life  was  given  in  reply. 

Companionship  with  this  ghost  of  broad  daylight  made 
the  fluttering  Tyrolese  feathers  at  both  windows  a  welcome 
sight. 

Precautions  had  been  taken  to  bind  the  woman's  arms. 
Vittoria  offered  to  loosen  the  cords,  but  she  dared  not  touch 
her  without  a  mark  of  assent. 

"  I  know  Angelo  Guidascarpi,  Rinaldo's  brother,"  sha 
Bpoke  again. 


COUNT  KA.KL  LENKENSTEIN,  ETC.  351 


The  woman's  nostrils  bent  inward,  as  when  the  breath  we 
draw  is  keen  as  a  sword  to  the  heart.  Vittoria  was  com- 
pelled to  look  away  from  her. 

At  the  midday  halt  Count  Karl  deigned  to  justify  to  her 
his  intended  execution  of  Rinaldo — the  accomplice  in  the 
slaying  of  his  brother  Count  Paul.  He  was  evidently  eager 
to  obtain  her  good  opinion  of  the  Austrian  military.  "  But 
for  this  miserable  spirit  of  hatred  against  us,"  he  said,  "  I 
should  have  espoused  an  Italian  lady  ;"  and  he  asked,  "  Why 
not  ?  For  that  matter,  in  all  but  blood,  we  Lenkensteins 
are  half  Italian,  except  when  Italy  menaces  the  empire. 
Can  you  blame  us  for  then  drawing  the  sword  in  earnest  ?" 

He  proffered  his  version  of  the  death  of  Count  Paul.  She 
kept  her  own  silent  in  her  bosom. 

Clelia  Guidascarpi,  according  to  his  statement,  had  first 
been  slain  by  her  brothers.  Vittoria  believed  that  Clelia 
had  volixntarily  submitted  to  death  and  died  by  her  own 
hand.  She  was  betrothed  to  an  Italian  nobleman  of  Bologna, 
the  friend  of  the  brothers.  They  had  arranged  the  marriage ; 
she  accepted  the  betrothal.  "  She  loved  my  brother,  poor 
thing !"  said  Count  Karl.  "  She  concealed  it,  and  naturally. 
How  could  she  take  a  couple  of  wolves  into  her  confidence  H 
If  she  had  told  the  pair  of  rufiians  that  she  was  plighted  to 
an  Austrian,  they  would  have  quieted  her  at  an  earlier 
period.  A  woman  !  a  girl — signorina,  the  intolerable 
cowardice  amazes  me.  It  amazes  me  that  you  or  any  one 
can  uphold  the  character  of  such  brutes.  And  when  she 
was  dead  they  lured  my  brother  to  the  house  and  slew  him ; 
fell  upon  him  with  daggers,  stretched  him  at  the  foot  of  her 
coffin,  and  then — what  then  ? — ran !  ran  for  their  lives. 
One  has  gone  to  his  account.  We  shall  come  aci'oss  the 
other.  He  is  among  that  volunteer  party  which  attacked 
ns  yesterday.  The  body  was  carried  off  by  them ;  it  is 
sufficient  testimony  that  Angelo  Guidasearjn  is  in  the 
neighbourhood.  I  should  be  hunting  him  now  but  that  I 
am  under  orders  to  march  South-east." 

The  story,  as  Vittoria  knew  it,  had  a  different,  though 
yet  a  dreadful  colour. 

"  I  could  have  hanged  Rinaldo,"  Count  Karl  said  further. 
"  I  suppose  the  rascals  feai-ed  I  should  use  my  right,  and 
that  is  why  they  sent  their  mad  baggage  of  a  woman  to 
spare  any  damage  to  the  family  pride.     If  I  had  been  a  man 


352  VITTORIA. 

to  enjoy  vengeance,  tlie  rope  would  have  swimg  for  liim. 
In  spite  of  provocation,  I  shall  simply  shoot  the  other ;  I 
pledge  my  word  to  it.  They  shall  be  paid  in  coin.  I 
demand  no  intei-est." 

Weisspriess  prudently  avoided  her.  Wilfrid  held  aloof. 
She  sat  in  garden  shade  till  the  bugle  sounded.  Tyiolese 
and  Italian  soldiers  were  gibing  at  her  haggard  companion 
when  she  entered  the  carriage.  Fronting  this  dumb  crea- 
ture once  more,  Vittoria  thought  of  the  story  of  the  brothers. 
She  felt  herself  reading  it  from  the  very  page.  The  woman 
looked  that  evil  star  incarnate  which  Laura  said  they  were 
boi-n  under. 

This  is  in  brief  the  story  of  the  Guidascarpi. 

They  were  the  offspring  of  a  Bolognese  noble  house, 
neither  wealthy  nor  poor.  In  her  early  womanhood,  Clelia 
was  left  to  the  care  of  her  brothers.  She  declined  the 
guardianship  of  Countess  Ammiani  because  of  her  love  for 
them  ;  and  the  three,  with  their  passion  of  hatred  to  the 
Austrians  inherited  from  father  and  mother,  schemed  in 
concert  to  throw  off  the  Austrian  yoke.  Clelia  had  soft 
features  of  no  great  mark ;  by  her  colouring  she  was  beau- 
tiful, being  dark  along  the  eyebrows,  with  dark  eyes,  and  a 
surpassing  richness  of  Venetian  hair.  Bologna  and  Venice 
were  married  in  her  aspect.  Her  brothers  conceived  her  to 
possess  such  force  of  mind  that  they  held  no  secrets  from 
her.  They  did  not  know  that  the  heart  of  their  sister  was 
struggling  with  an  image  of  Power  when  she  uttered  hatred 
of  it.  She  was  in  truth  a  woman  of  a  soft  heart,  with  a 
most  impressionable  imagination. 

There  were  many  suitors  for  the  hand  of  Clelia  Guida- 
scarpi, though  her  dowry  was  not  the  portion  of  a  fat  estate. 
Her  old  nurse  counselled  the  brothers  that  they  should  con- 
sent to  her  taking  a  husband.  They  fulfilled  this  duty  as 
one  that  must  be  done,  and  she  became  sorrowfully  the 
betrothed  of  a  nobleman  of  Bologna  ;  from  which  hour  she 
had  no  cheerfulness.  The  brothers  quitted  Bologna  for 
Venice,  where  there  was  the  bed  of  a  conspiracy.  On  their 
i-eturn  they  were  shaken  by  rumours  of  their  sister's  miscon- 
duct. An  Austrian  name  was  allied  to  hers  in  busy  mouths. 
A  lady,  their  distant  relative,  whose  fame  was  light,  had 
withdrawn  her  from  the  silent  house,  and  made  display  of 
her.     Since  she  had  seen  more  than  an  Italian  girl  should 


COUNT  KARL  LENKENSTEIN,  ETC.  353 


see,  the  brothers  proposed  to  the  nobleman  her  betrothed  to 
break  the  treaty ;  but  he  "was  of  a  mind  to  hurry  on  tho 
marriage,  and  recollecting  now  that  she  was  but  a  woman, 
the  brothers  fixed  a  day  for  her  espousals,  tenderly,  without 
reproach.  She  had  the  choice  of  taking  the  vows  or  surren- 
dering her  hand.  Her  old  nurse  prayed  for  the  day  of  her 
espousals  to  come  with  a  quicker  step.  One  night  she  sur- 
prised Count  Paul  Lenkenstein  at  Clelia's  window.  Rinaldo 
was  in  the  gai-den  below.  He  moved  to  the  shadow  of  a 
cypress,  and  was  seen  moving  by  the  old  nurse.  The  lover 
took  the  single  kiss  he  had  come  for,  was  led  through  the 
chamber,  and  passed  unchallenged  into  the  street.  Clelia 
sat  between  locked  doors  and  darkened  windows,  feeling 
colder  to  the  brothers  she  had  been  reared  with  than  to  all 
other  men  upon  the  eai-th.  They  sent  for  her  after  a  lapse 
of  hours.  Her  old  nurse  was  kneeling  at  their  feet.  Rinaldo 
asked  for  the  name  of  her  lover.  She  answered  with  it. 
Angelo  said,  "  It  will  be  better  for  you  to  die :  but  if  you. 
cannot  do  so  easy  a  thing  as  that,  prepare  widow's  garments." 
They  forced  her  to  wi-ite  three  words  to  Count  Paul,  calling 
him  to  her  window  at  midnight.  Rinaldo  fetched  a  priest : 
Angelo  laid  out  two  swords.  An  houi'  before  the  midnight, 
Clelia's  old  nurse  raised  the  house  with  her  cries.  Clelia 
was  stretched  dead  in  her  chamber.  The  brothers  kissed  her 
in  turn,  and  sat,  one  at  her  head,  one  at  her  feet.  At  mid- 
night her  lover  stood  among  them.  He  was  gi'avely  saluted, 
and  bidden  to  look  upon  the  dead  body.  Angelo  said  to 
him,  "  Had  she  lived  you  should  have  wedded  her  hand. 
She  is  gone  of  her  own  free  choice,  and  one  of  us  follows 
her."  With  the  sweat  of  anguish  on  his  forehead.  Count 
Paul  drew  sword.  The  window  was  barred  ;  six  malo 
domestics  of  the  household  held  high  lights  in  the  chamber  j 
the  priest  knelt  beside  one  corpse,  awaiting  the  other. 

Vittoria's  imagination  could  not  go  beyond  that  scene, 
but  she  looked  out  on  the  brother  of  the  slain  youth  with 
gi-eat  pity,  and  with  a  strange  curiosity.  The  example 
given  by  Clelia  of  the  possible  love  of  an  Italian  girl  lor 
the  white  uniform,  set  her  thinking  whether  so  monstrous  a 
fact  could  ever  be  doubled  in  this  world.  "  Could  it  happen 
to  me  ? "  she  asked  herself,  and  smiled,  as  she  half- 
fashioned  the  Avords  on  her  lips,  "  It  is  a  pretty  uniform." 

2  a 


354  VITTOUIA. 

Her  reverie  was  broken  by  a  hiss  of  "Traitress!"  from 
the  woman  opposite. 

She  coloured  guiltily,  tried  to  speak,  and  sat  trembling. 
A  divination  of  intense  hatred  had  perhaps  read  the  thought 
within  her  breast :  or  it  was  a  mere  outburst  of  hate.  The 
woman's  face  was  like  the  wearing  away  of  smoke  from  a 
spot  whence  shot  has  issued.  Vittoria  walked  for  the 
remainder  of  the  day.  That  fearful  companion  oppressed 
her.  She  felt  that  one  who  followed  armies  should  be  cast 
in  such  a  frame,  and  now  desired  with  all  her  heart  to 
render  full  obedience  to  Carlo,  and  abide  in  Brescia,  or  even 
in  Milan — a  city  she  thought  of  shyly. 

The  march  was  hurried  to  the  slopes  of  the  Vicentino,  for 
enemies  were  thick  in  this  district.  Pericles  refused  to  quit 
the  soldiers,  though  Count  Karl  used  persuasion.  The 
young  nobleman  said  to  Vittoria,  "  Be  on  your  guard  when 
you  meet  my  sister  Anna.  I  tell  you,  we  can  be  as  revenge- 
ful as  any  of  you :  but  you  will  exonerate  me.  I  do  my 
duty;  I  seek  to  do  no  more." 

At  an  inn  that  they  reached  toward  evening  she  saw  the 
innkeeper  shoot  a  little  ball  of  paper  at  an  Italian  corporal, 
who  put  his  foot  on  it  and  picked  it  up.  This  soldier  subse- 
quently passed  through  the  ranks  of  his  comrades,  gathering 
winks  and  grins.  They  were  to  have  rested  at  the  inn,  but 
Count  Karl  was  warned  by  scouts,  which  was  sufficient  to 
make  Pericles  cling  to  him  in  avoidance  of  the  volunteers,  of 
whom  mainly  he  was  in  terror.  He  looked  ague-stricken. 
He  would  not  listen  to  her,  or  to  reason  in  any  shape.  "  I 
am  on  the  sea — shall  I  trust  a  boat  ?  I  stick  to  a  ship,"  he 
said.  The  soldiers  marched  till  midnight.  It  was  arranged 
that  the  carriage  should  strike  off  for  Schio  at  dawn.  The 
soldiers  bivouacked  on  the  slope  of  one  of  the  low  undula- 
tions falling  to  the  Vicentino  plain.  Vittoria  spread  her 
cloak,  and  lay  under  bare  sky,  not  suffering  the  woman  to 
be  ejected  from  the  carriage.  Hitherto  Luigi  had  avoided 
her.  Under  pretence  of  doubling  Count  Karl's  cloak  as  a 
pillow  for  her  head,  he  whispered,  "  If  the  signoi-ina  hears 
shots  let  her  lie  on  the  ground  flat  as  a  sheet."  The  peace- 
fulness  surrounding  her  precluded  alarm.  There  was  bril. 
liant  moonlight,  and  the  host  of  stars,  all  dim;  and  first  they 
beckoned  her  up  to  come  away  from  trouble,  and  then, 
through  Jong  gazing,  she  had  the  fancy  that  they  bent  and 


COUNT  KARL  LENKENSTEIN,  ETC.  355 

Bwam  atout  licr,  making  her  feel  that  she  lay  in  the  hollows 
of  a  warm  hushed  sea.     She  wished  for  her  lover. 

Men  and  officers  were  lying  at  a  stone's-throw  distant. 
The  Tyrolese  had  lit  a  fire  for  cooking  purposes,  by  which 
four  of  them  stood,  and,  lifting  hands,  sang  one  of  their 
mountain  songs,  that  seemed  to  her  to  spring  like  clear  water 
into  air,  and  fall  wavering  as  a  feather  falls,  or  the  light 
about  a  stone  in  water.  It  lulled  her  to  a  half-sleep,  during 
which  she  fancied  hearing  a  broad  imitation  of  a  cat's-call 
from  the  mountains,  that  was  answered  out  of  the  camp,  and 
a  talk  of  officers  arose  in  connection  with  the  response,  and 
subsided.  The  carriage  was  in  the  shadows  of  the  fire.  In 
a  little  while  Luigi  and  the  driver  began  putting  the  horses 
to,  and  she  saw  Count  Karl  and  Weisspriess  go  up  to  Luigi, 
"who  declared  loudly  that  it  was  time.  The  woman  inside 
was  ai'oused.  Weisspriess  helped  to  di\ag  her  out.  Luigi 
kept  making  much  noise,  and  apologized  for  it  by  saying  that 
he  desired  to  awaken  his  master,  who  was  stretched  in  a 
secure  circle  among  the  Tyrolese.  Presently  Vittoria  beheld 
the  woman's  arms  thrown  out  free ;  the  next  minute  they 
wei-e  around  the  body  of  Weisspiiess,  and  a  shrewd  ciy  issued 
from  Count  Karl.  Shots  rang  from  the  outposts  ;  the  Tyro- 
lese sprang  to  arms;  "Sandra!"  was  shouted  by  Pericles ; 
and  once  more  she  heard  the  Venife  fratelli !  of  the  bull's 
voice,  and  a  stream  of  volunteers  dashed  at  the  Tyrolese  with 
sword  and  dagger  and  bayonet.  The  Austro-Italians  stood 
in  a  crescent  line — the  ominous  form  of  incipient  military 
insubordination.  Their  officers  stormed  at  them,  and  called 
for  Count  Karl  and  for  Weisspriess.  The  latter  replied  like 
a  man  stifling,  but  Count  Karl's  voice  was  silent. 

"Weisspriess!  here,  to  me!"  the  captain  sang  out  in 
Italian. 

"  Ammiani  !  here,  to  me  !"  was  replied. 

Vittoria  struck  her  hands  together  in  electrical  gladness 
at  her  lover's  voice  and  name.  It  rang  most  cheerfully. 
Her  home  was  in  the  conflict  where  her  lover  fought,  and  she 
muttered  with  ecstacy,  "  We  have  met  I  we  have  met !"  The 
sound  of  the  keen  steel,  so  exciting  to  dream  of,  paralyzed 
her  nerves  in  a  way  that  powder,  more  terrible  for  a  woman's 
imagination,  would  not  have  done,  and  she  could  only  feebly 
advance.  It  was  spacious  moonlight,  but  the  moonlight 
appeared  to  have  got  of  a  brassy  hue  to  her  eyes,  though  tho 

2  a2 


3-56  VITTOKIA. 


spaikle  of  the  steel  was  white;  and  she  felt  too,  and  won- 
dered at  it,  that  the  cries  and  the  noise  went  to  her  throat, 
as  if  threatening  to  choke  her.  Very  soon  she  found  herself 
standing  there,  watching  for  the  issue  of  the  strife,  almost  as 
dead  as  a  weight  in  scales,  incapable  of  clear  vision. 

Matched  against  the  Tyrolese  alone,  the  volunteers  had  an 
equal  fight  in  point  of  numbers,  and  the  advantage  of  possess- 
ing a  leader ;  for  Count  Karl  was  down,  and  Weisspriess 
was  still  entangled  in  the  woman's  arms.  When  at  last 
Wilfrid  got  him  free,  the  unsupported  Tyrolese  were  giving 
ground  before  Carlo  Ammiani  and  his  followers.  These 
fought  with  stem  fury,  keeping  close  up  to  their  enemy, 
rarely  shouting.  They  presented  something  like  the  line  of 
a  classic  bow,  with  its  arrow-head ;  while  the  Tyrolese  were 
huddled  in  groups,  and  clubbed  at  them,  and  fell  back  for 
space,  and  ultimately  crashed  upon  their  betraying  brothers- 
in-arms,  swinging  rifles  and  flying.  The  Austro-Italians 
rang  out  a  Viva  for  Italy,  and  let  them  fly :  they  were  swept 
from  the  scene. 

Vittoria  heard  her  lover  addressing  his  followers.  Then 
he  and  Angelo  stood  over  Count  Karl,  whom  she  had  for- 
gotten. Angelo  ran  up  to  her,  but  gave  place  the  moment 
Carlo  came  ;  and  Carlo  drew  her  by  the  hand  swiftly  to  an 
obscure  bend  of  the  rolling  ground,  and  stuck  his  sword  in 
the  earth,  and  there  put  his  arms  round  her  and  held  her 
fast. 

"  Obey  me  now,"  were  his  first  words. 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

He  was  harsh  of  eye  and  tongue,  not  like  the  gentle  youth 
she  had  been  torn  from  at  the  door  of  La  Scala. 

"  Return ;  make  your  way  to  Brescia.  My  mother  is  in 
Brescia.  Milan  is  hateful.  1  throw  myself  into  Vicenza. 
Can  I  trust  you  to  obey  i^" 

"  Carlo,  what  evil  Iv  ve  you  heard  of  me  ?" 

"I  listen  to  no  tales." 

"  Let  me  follow  you  to  Vicenza  and  be  your  handmaid, 
my  beloved." 

"  Say  that  you  obey." 

"  I  have  said  it." 

He  seemed  to  shut  her  in  his  heart,  so  closely  was  she 
enfolded. 

*'  Since  La  Scala,"  she  murmured ;  and  he  bent  his  lips  to 


COUNT  KARL  LENKENSTEIN,  ETC.  357 

her  ear,  wTiispering',  "  not  one  thought  o£  another  woman  I 
and  never  till  I  die." 

"  And  I  only  of  you,  Carlo,  and  for  you,  my  lover,  my 
lover !" 

"  You  love  me  absolutely  ?" 

"  1  belong-  to  you." 

"  I  could  be  a  coward  and  pray  for  life  to  live  to  hear  you 
say  it." 

"  I  feel  I  breathe  another  life  when  you  are  away  from 
me." 

"  You  belong  to  me ;  you  are  my  own  ?" 

"  You  take  my  voice,  beloved." 

"  And  when  I  claim  you,  I  am  to  have  you  ?" 

"  Am  I  not  in  your  hands  ?" 

"  The  very  instant  I  make  my  claim  you  will  say  yes  ?" 

"  I  shall  not  have  strength  for  more  than  to  nod." 

Carlo  shuddered  at  the  delicious  imasfe  of  her  weakness. 

*'  My  Sandra !  Vittoria,  my  soul !  my  bride  !" 

"  O  my  Carlo !  Do  you  go  to  Vicenza  ?  And  did  you 
know  I  was  among  these  people  ?" 

"  You  will  hear  everything  from  little  Leone  Rufo,  who  is 
wounded  and  accompanies  you  to  Brescia.  Speak  of  nothing. 
Speak  my  name,  and  look  at  me.  I  deserve  two  minutes  of 
blessedness." 

"  Ah,  my  dearest,  if  I  am  sweet  to  you,  you  might  havo 
many  !" 

"  No  ;  they  begin  to  hum  a  reproach  at  me  already,  for  I 
must  be  marching.  Vicenza  will  soon  bubble  on  a  fire,  I 
suspect.  Comfort  my  mother  ;  she  wants  a  young  h(;art  at 
her  elbow.  If  she  is  alone,  she  feeds  on  every  rumour ; 
other  women  scatter  in  emotions  what  poisons  her.  And 
when  my  bride  is  with  her,  I  am  between  them." 

"  Yes,  Carlo,  I  will  go,"  said  Vittoria,  seeing  her  duty  at 
last  through  tenderness. 

Caiio  sprang  from  her  side  to  meet  Angelo,  with  whom  ho 
exchanged  some  quick  words.  The  bugle  was  sounding,  and 
Barto  Rizzo  audible.  Luigi  came  to  her,  ruefully  announc- 
ing that  the  volunteers  had  sacked  the  carriage — behaved 
worse  than  the  Austrians  ;  and  that  his  padrone,  the  Signor 
Antonio- Pericles,  was  off  like  a  gossamer.  Angelo  induced 
her  to  remain  on  the  spot  where  she  stood  till  the  cai'riiigo 
was  seen  on  the  Schio  road,  when  he  led  her  to  it,  sayiujj 


358  VITTOEIA. 

that  Carlo  had  serious  work  to  do.  Count  Karl  Lenkensteiu 
was  lying  in  the  carriage,  supported  by  Wilfrid  and  by 
young  Leone  Rufo,  who  sat  laughing,  with  one  eye  under  a 
cross-bandage  and  an  arm  slung  in  a  handkerchief.  Yittoria 
desired  to  wait  that  she  might  see  her  lover  once  more  ;  but 
Angelo  entreated  her  that  she  should  depart,  too  earnestly  to 
leave  her  in  doubt  of  there  being  good  reason  for  it  and  for 
her  lover's  absence.  He  pointed  to  Wilfrid :  "  Barto  Rizzo 
captured  this  man  ;  Carlo  has  released  him.  Take  him  with 
you  to  attend  on  his  superior  officer."  She  drew  Angelo'a 
observation  to  the  first  morning  colours  over  the  peaks.  He 
looked  up,  and  she  knew  that  he  remembered  that  morning 
of  their  flight  from  the  inn.  Perhaps  he  then  had  the  image 
of  his  brother  in  his  mind,  for  the  colours  seemed  to  be 
plucking  at  his  heart,  and  he  said,  "  I  have  lost  him." 

"  God  help  you,  my  friend  !"  said  Vittoria,  her  throat 
choking:. 

Angelo  pointed  at  the  insensible  nobleman  :  "  These  live. 
I  do  not  grudge  him  his  breath  or  his  chances;  but  why 
should  these  men  take  so  much  killing?  Weisspriess  has 
risen,  as  though  I  struck  the  blow  of  a  babe.  But  we — one 
shot  does  for  us !  Nevertheless,  signorina,"  Angelo  smiled 
firmly,  "  I  complain  of  nothing  while  we  march  forward." 

He  kissed  his  hand  to  her,  and  turned  back  to  his  troop. 
The  carriage  was  soon  under  the  shadows  of  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER   XXXrV^. 
EPISODES  OF  THE  REVOLT  AND  THE  WAR. 

THE  DEEDS  OF  BARTO  EIZZO. THE  M£ETING  AT  ROVEREDO. 

At  Schio  there  was  no  medical  attendance  to  be  obtained 
for  Count  Karl,  and  he  begged  so  piteously  to  be  taken  on  to 
Roveredo,  that,  on  his  promising  to  give  Leone  Rufo  a  pass, 
Vittoria  decided  to  work  her  way  lound  to  Brescia  by  the 
Alpine  route.  She  supposed  Pericles  to  have  gone  off  among 
the  Tyrolese,  and  wished  in  her  heart  that  Wilfrid  had  gone 
likewise,  for  he  continued  to  wear  that  look  of  sad  stupefac- 
tion which  was  the  harshest  i-eproach  to  her.  Leone  was 
unconquerably  gay  in  spite  of  his  wounds.     He  naiTated  the 


TDE  DEEDS  OP  BAUTO  EIZZO,  ETC.  359 


doings  of  the  volunteers,  witli  proud  eulogies  of  Carlo  Am- 
miani's  gallant  leadership ;  but  the  devices  of  Barto  Rizzo 
appeared  to  have  struck  his  imagination  most.  "  He  is 
positively  a  cat — a  great  eat,"  Leone  said.  "  He  can  run  a 
day  ;  he  can  fast  a  week  ;  he  can  climb  a  house  ;  he  can  di-op 
from  a  crag ;  and  he  never  lets  go  his  hold.  If  he  says  a 
thing  to  his  wife,  she  goes  true  as  a  bullet  to  the  mark. 
The  two  make  a  complete  piece  of  artillery.  We  are  all  for 
Barto,  though  our  captain  Carlo  is  often  enraged  with  him. 
But  there's  no  getting  on  without  him.  We  have  found 
that." 

E-inaldo  and  Angelo  Guidascarpi  and  Barto  Rizzo  had  done 
many  daring  feats.     They  had  first,  heading  about  a  couple 
of  dozen  out  of  a  force  of  sixty,  endeavoured  to  surprise  the 
fortress  Rocca  d'Anfo  in  Lake  Idro — an  insane  enterprise 
that  touched  on  success,  and  would  have  been  an  achieve- 
ment had  all  the  men  who  followed  them  been  made  of  the 
same  desperate  stuff.     Beaten  off,  they  escaped  up  the  Val 
di  Ledro,  and  secretly  entered  Trent,  where  they  hoped  to 
spread  revolt,  but  the  Austrian  commandant  knew  what  a 
quantity  of  dry  wood  was  in  the  city,  and  stamped  his  heel 
on   sparks.      A  revolt    was    prepared    notwithstanding    tho 
proclamation  of  imprisonment  and  death.     Barto  undertook 
to  lead  a  troop  against  the  Buon  Consiglio  barracks,  whilo 
Angelo   and   Rinaldo   cleared   the   ramparts.      It  chanced, 
■whether  from  treachery   or  exti-a-vigilan^e  was  unknown, 
that  the  troops  paid  domiciliary  visits  an  hour  before  the 
intended  outbreak,   and  the  three  were  left  to  accomplish 
their  task  alone.     They  remained  in  the  city  several  days, 
hunted  from  house  to  house,  and  finally  they  were  brought 
to  bay  at  night  on  the  roof  of  a  palace  where  the  Lenkenstoin 
ladies  were  residing.     Barto  took  his   dagger  between  his 
teeth  and  dropped  to  the  balcony  of  Lena's  chamber.     Tho 
brothers  soon  after  found  the  roof-trap  opened  to  them,  and 
Lena  and  Anna  conducted  them  to  the  postern-door.     There 
Angelo  asked  whom  they  had  to  thank.     The  terrified  ladies 
gave  their  name  ;  upon  hearing  which,  Rinaldo  turned  and 
said  that  he  would  pay  for  a  charitable  deed  to  the  extent 
of  his  power,  and  would  not  meanly  allow  them  to  befriend 
persons  who  were  to  continue  strangers  to  them.     He  gave 
the  name  of  Guidascarpi,  and  relieved  his  brother,  as  well 
as  himself,  of  a  load  of  obligation,  for  the  ladies  raised  wild 


360  VITTOEIA. 

screams  on  the  instant.     In  falling  fi-om  the  walls  to  the 
road,  Rinaldo  hurt  his  foot.     Barto  lifted  him  on  his  back, 
and  journeyed  with   him  so  till  at  the  appointed  place  he 
met  his  ,wife,  who  dressed  the  foot,  and  led  them  out  of  the 
line  of  pursuit,  herself  bending  under  the  beloved  load.     Her 
adoration  of  Rinaldo  was  deep   as  a   mother's,   pure    as  a 
virgin's,  fiery  as  a  saint's.     Leone  Rufo  dwelt  on  it  the  more 
fervidly  from  seeing  Yittoria's  expression  of  astonishment. 
The  woman  led  them  to  a  cave  in  the  rocks,  where  she  had 
stored  provision  and  sat  two  days  expecting  the  signal  from 
Trent.     They  saw  numerous  bands  of  soldiers  set  out  along 
the  valleys — merry  men  whom  it  was  Barto's  pleasure  to 
beguile  by  shouts,  as  a  relief  for  his  parched  weariness  upon 
the  baking  rock.     Accident  made  it  an  indiscretion.     A  glass 
was  levelled  at  them  by  a  mounted  officer,  and  they  had 
quickly  to   be  moving.     Angelo  knew  the  voice  of  Weiss- 
priess  in  the  word  of  command  to  the  soldiers,  and  the  call 
to  him  to  surrender.     Weisspriess  followed  them  across  the 
mountain  track,  keeping  at  their  heels,  though  they  doubled 
and  adopted  all  possible  contrivances  to  shake  him  oif.     He 
was  joined  by   Count  Karl   Lenkenstein  on  the  day  when 
Carlo  Ammiani  encountered  them,  with  the  rear  of  Colonel 
Corte's  band  marching  for  Yicenza.     In  the  collision  between 
the  Austrians  and  the  volunteers,  Rinaldo  was  taken  fight- 
ing  upon   his   knee-cap.      Leone  cursed   the   disabled  foot 
which  had  carried  the  hero  in  action,  to  cast  him  at  the 
mercy   of   his    enemies ;    but   recollection   of   that  sight  of 
Rinaldo  fighting  far   ahead   and    alone,   half-down    like    a 
scuttled  ship,  stood  like  a  flower  in  the  lad's  memory.     The 
volunteers  devoted  themselves  to  liberate  or  avenge  him.    It 
was  then  that  Barto  Rizzo  sent  his  wife  upon  her  mission. 
Leone  assured  Vittoria  that  Angelo  was  aware  of  its  nature, 
and  approved  it — hoped  that  the  same  might  be  done  for 
himself.      He   shook   his   head   when   she   asked   if  Count 
Ammiani  approved  it  likewise. 

"  Signorina,  Count  Ammiani  has  a  grudge  against  Barto, 
though  he  can't  help  making  use  of  him.  Our  captain  Carlo 
is  too  much  of  a  mere  soldier.  He  would  have  allowed 
Rinaldo  to  be  strung  up,  and  Barto  does  not  owe  him 
obedience  in  those  things." 

"  But  why  did  this  Barto  Rizzo  employ  a  woman's  hand  ?" 
"  The  woman  was  capable.     No  man  could  have  got  per- 


THE  DEEDS  OF  BARTO  KIZZO,  ETC. 


361 


mission  to  move  freely  among  tlie  rascal  Anstrians,  even  in 
the  chavacter  of  a  deserter.  She  did,  and  she  saved  him 
from  the  shame  of  execution.  And  besides,  it  "was  her 
punishment.  You  are  astonished  ?  Barto  Rizzo  punishes 
royally.  He  never  forgives,  and  he  never  persecutes ;  he 
waits  for  his  opportunity.  That  woman  disobeyed  him  once 
— once  only;  but  once  was  enough.  It  occurred  in  Milan, 
I  believe.  She  released  an  Austrian,  or  did  something — I 
don't  know  the  story  exactly — and  Barto  said  to  her,  '  Now 
you  can  wash  out  your  crime  and  send  your  boy  to  heaven 
■unspotted,  with  one  blow.'  I  saw  her  set  out  to  do  it.  She 
was  all  teeth  and  eyes,  like  a  frightened  horse;  she  walked 
like  a  Muse  in  a  garden." 

Vittoria  discovered  that  her  presence  among  the  Austriana 
had  been  kno^vn  to  Carlo.  Leone  alluded  slightly  to  Barto 
Rizzo's  confirmed  suspicion  of  her,  saying  that  it  was  his 
weakness  to  be  suspicious  of  women.  The  volunteers,  how- 
ever, were  all  in  her  favour,  and  had  jeered  at  Barto  on  his 
declaring  that  she  might,  in  proof  of  her  willingness  to 
serve  the  cause,  have  used  her  voice  for  the  purpose  of  sub- 
jugating the  wavering  Austro-Italians,  who  wanted  as  much 
coaxing  as  women.  Count  Karl  had  been  struck  to  earth 
by  Barto  Rizzo.  "  Not  with  his  boasted  neatness,  I  imagine," 
Leone  said.  In  fact,  the  dagger  had  grazed  an  ivory  por- 
trait of  a  fair  Italian  head  wreathed  with  violets  in  Count 
Karl's  breast. 

Vittoria  recognized  the  features  of  Violetta  d'lsorella  as 
the  original  of  the  portrait. 

They  arrived  at  Roveredo  late  in  the  evening.  The 
wounded  man  again  entreated  Vittoria  to  remain  by  him  till 
a  messenger  should  bring  one  of  his  sisters  from  Trent. 
"  See,"  she  said  to  Leone,  "  how  I  give  grounds  for  suspicion 
of  me  ;  I  nurse  an  enemy." 

"  Here  is  a  case  where  Barto  is  distinctly  to  blame,"  the 
lad  replied.  "  The  poor  fellow  must  want  nursing,  for  ho 
can't  smoke." 

Anna  von  Lenkenstein  came  from  Trent  to  her  brother's 
Bummons.  Vittoria  was  by  his  bedside,  and  the  sufferer  had 
fallen  asleep  with  his  head  upon  her  arm.  Anna  looked 
upon  this  scene  with  more  hateful  amazement  than  her  dull 
eyelids  could  express.  She  beckoned  imperiously  for  her  to 
come  away,  but  Vittoria  would  not  allow  liiui  to  be  disturbed, 


3G2  VITTORIA, 

and  Ajina  sat  and  faced  her.  The  sleep  was  loni^.  The  eyo3 
of  the  two  women  met  from  time  to  time,  and  Vittoria 
thought  that  Barto  Rizzo's  wife,  though  more  terrible,  was 
pleasanter  to  behold,  and  less  brutal,  than  Anna.  The 
moment  her  brother  stii'red,  Anna  repeated  her  imperious 
gesture,  murmuring,  "  Away  !  out  of  my  sight !"  With, 
great  delicacy  of  touch  she  drew  the  ai-ra  from  the  pillow 
and  thrust  it  back,  and  then  motioning  in  an  undisguised 
horror,  said,  "  Go."     Vittoria  rose  to  go. 

"  Is  it  my  Lena  ?"  came  from  Karl's  faint  lips. 
"  It  is  your  Anna." 
*'  I  should  have  known,"  he  moaned. 
Vittoria  left  them. 

Some  hours  later.  Countess  Lena  appeared,  bringing  a 
Trentino  doctor.  She  said  when  she  beheld  Vittoria,  "  Are 
you  our  evil  genius,  then  ?"  Vittoria  felt  that  she  must 
necessarily  wear  that  aspect  to  them. 

Still  greater  was  Lena's  amazement  when  she  looked  on 
Wilfrid.     She  passed  him  without  a  sign. 

Vittoria  had  no  submit  to  an  interview  with  both  sisters 
before  her  departure.  Apart  from  her  distress  on  their 
behalf,  they  had  always  seemed  as  very  weak,  flippant  young 
■women  to  her,  and  she  could  have  smiled  in  her  heart  when 
Anna  pointed  to  a  day  of  retribution  in  the  future. 

"  I  shall  not  seek  to  have  you  assassinated,"  Anna  said ; 
**  do  not  suppose  that  I  mean  the  knife  or  the  pistol.  But 
your  day  will  come,  and  I  can  wait  for  it.  You  murdered 
my  brother  Paul :  you  have  tried  to  murder  my  brother 
Karl.  I  wish  you  to  leave  this  place  convinced  of  one  thing: 
—you  shall  be  repaid  for  it." 

There  was  no  direct  allusion  either  to  Weisspriess  or  to 
Wilfrid. 

Lena  spoke  of  the  anny.  "  You  think  our  cause  is  ruined 
because  we  have  insurrection  on  all  sides  of  us  :  you  do  not 
know  our  army.  We  can  fight  the  Hungarians  with  one 
hand,  and  you  Italians  with  the  other — with  a  little  finger. 
On  what  spot  have  we  given  way  ?  We  have  to  weep,  it  ia 
true ;  but  tears  do  not  testify  to  defeat ;  and  already  I  am 
inclined  to  pity  those  fools  who  have  taken  part  against  us. 
Some  have  experienced  the  fruits  of  their  folly." 

This  was  the  nearest  approach  to  a  hint  at  Wilfrid's  mis- 
conduct. 


THE  DEEDS  OP  BARTO  EIZZO,  ETC.  3G3 

Lena  handed  Leone's  pass  to  Vittoria,  and  drawing  out  a 
little  pocket  almanac,  said,  "  You  proceed  to  Milan,  I  pre- 
sume. I  do  not  love  your  society,  mademoiselle  Belloni — or 
Campa :  yet  I  do  not  mind  making  an  appointment — the 
doctor  says  a  month  will  set  my  brother  on  his  feet  again, — 
I  will  make  an  appointment  to  meet  joxi  in  Milan  or  Como, 
or  anywhere  in  your  present  territories,  during  the  month  of 
Auy'ust.  That  alfords  time  for  a  short  siege  and  two  pitched 
battles." 

She  appeared  to  be  expecting  a  retort. 

Yittoria  replied,  "  I  could  beg  one  thing  on  my  knees  of 
you,  Countess  Lena." 

"  And  that  is ?"     Lena  threw  her  head  up  superbly. 

"  Pardon  my  old  friend  the  service  he  did  me  through 
friendship." 

The  csisters  interchanged  looks.     Lena  flushed  angrily. 
Anna  said,  "  The  person  to  whom  you  allude  is  here." 
"  He  is  attending  on  your  brother." 
"  Did  he  help  this  last  assassin  to  escape,  perchance  ?" 
Vittoria  sickened  at  the  cruel  irony,  and  felt  that  she  had 
perhaps  done  ill  in  beginning  to  plead  for  Wilfrid. 

"  He  is  here ;  let  him  speak  for  himself :  but  listen  to 
him,  Countess  Lena." 

"  A  dishonourable  man  had  better  be  dumb,"  interposed 
Anna. 

"  Ah !  it  is  I  who  have  offended  you.** 
"  Is  that  his  excuse  ?" 

Yittoria  kept  her  eyes  on  the  fiercer  sist3r,  who  now 
declined  to  speak. 

"  I  will  not  excuse  my  own  deeds  ;  perhaps  I  cannot.  We 
Italians  are  in  a  hurricane ;  I  cannot  reflect.  It  may  bo 
that  I  do  not  act  more  thinkingly  than  a  wild  beast." 
"You  have  spoken  it,"  Anna  exclaimed. 
"  Countess  Lena,  he  fights  in  your  ranks  as  a  common 
soldier.  He  encounters  more  than  a  common  Sf*ldier'a 
risks." 

"  The  man  is  brave, — we  knew  that,"  said  Anna. 
"  He  is  more  than  brave,  he  is  devoted.     Ho  fights  against 
ns,   without   hope   of   reward   from  you.      Have  I   utterly 
ruined  him  ?" 

"I  imagine  that  you  may  regard  it  as  a  fact  that  you 


364  VITTORIA. 

have  utterly  ruined  him,"  said  Anna,  moving  to  break  up 
the  parting  inverview.     Lena  turned  to  follow  her. 

"  Ladies,  if  it  is  I  who  have  hardened  your  hearts  I  am 
more  guilty  than  I  thought."  Vittoria  said  no  more.  She 
knew  that  she  had  been  speaking  badly,  or  ineffectually,  by 
a  haunting  flatness  of  sound,  as  of  an  unstrung  instrament, 
in  her  ears  :  she  was  herself  unstrung  and  dispirited,  while 
the  recollection  of  -Anna's  voice  was  like  a  sombre  conquer- 
ing monotony  on  a  low  chord,  with  which  she  felt  insuffi- 
cient to  compete. 

Leone  was  waiting  in  the  carriage  to  drive  to  the  ferry 
across  the  Adige.  There  was  news  in  Roveredo  of  the  king's 
advance  upon  Rivoli;  and  Leone  sat  trying  to  lift  and 
straighten  out  his  wounded  arm,  with  grimaces  of  laughter 
at  the  pain  of  the  effort,  which  resolutely  refused  to  acknow- 
ledge him  to  be  an  able  combatant.  At  the  carriage  door 
Wilfrid  bowed  once  over  Vittoria's  hand. 

"You  see  that,"  Anna  remarked  to  her  sister. 

"  I  should  have  despised  him  if  he  had  acted  indifference," 
replied  Lena. 

She  would  have  suspected  him — that  was  what  her  heart 
meant;  the  artful  show  of  indifference  had  deceived  her 
once.  The  anger  within  her  drew  its  springs  much  more 
fully  from  his  refusal  to  respond  to  her  affection,  when  she 
had  in  a  fit  of  feminine  weakness  abased  herself  before  him 
on  the  night  of  the  Milanese  revolt,  than  fi'om  the  recollec- 
tion of  their  days  together  in  Meran.  She  had  nothing  of 
her  sister's  unforgivingness.  And  she  was  besides  keenly 
curious  to  discover  the  nature  of  the  charm  Vittoria  threw 
on  him,  and  not  on  him  solely.  Vittoria  left  Wilfrid  to 
better  chances  than  she  supposed.  *'  Continue  fighting  with 
your  army,"  she  said,  when  they  parted.  The  deeper  shade 
which  traversed  his  features  told  her  that,  if  she  pleased, 
her  sway  might  still  be  active ;  but  she  had  no  emotion  to 
spare  for  sentimental  regi-ets.  She  asked  herself  whether  a 
woman  who  has  cast  her  lot  in  scenes  of  strife  does  not  lose 
much  of  her  womanhood  and  something  of  her  truth ;  and 
while  her  imagination  remained  depressed,  her  answer  was 
sad.  In  that  mood  she  pitied  Wilfrid  with  a  reckless  sense 
of  her  inability  to  repay  him  for  the  harm  she  had  dona 
hira.     The  tragedies  written  in  fresh  blood  all  about  her, 


CLOSE  OF  THE  LOMBARD  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  3G5 

together  witli  that  ever-present  image  of  the  fate  of  Italy 
hanging  in  the  balance,  soon  drew  her  away  from  personal 
reflections.  She  felt  as  one  in  a  war-chariot,  who  has  not 
time  to  cast  more  than  a  glance  on  the  fallen.  At  the  place 
where  the  ferry  is,  she  was  rejoiced  by  hearing  positive 
news  of  the  proximity  of  the  Royal  army.  There  were  none 
to  tell  her  that  Charles  Albert  had  here  made  his  worst 
move  my  leaving  Vicenza  to  the  operations  of  the  enem}^, 
that  he  might  become  master  of  a  point  worthless  when 
Vicenza  fell  into  the  enemy's  hands.  The  old  Austrian 
Field-Marshal  had  eluded  him  at  Mantua  on  that  very  night 
■when  Vittoria  had  seen  his  troops  in  motion.  The  daring 
Austrian  flank-march  on  Vicenza,  behind  the  fortresses  of 
the  Quadrilateral,  was  the  ca^ntal  stroke  of  the  campaign. 
But  the  presence  of  a  Piedmontese  vanguard  at  Rivoli 
flushed  the  Adige  with  confidence,  and  Vittoria  went  on  her 
way  sharing  the  people's  delight.  She  reached  Brescia  to 
hear  that  Vicenza  had  fallen.  The  city  was  like  a  land- 
scape smitten  black  by  the  thunder-cloud.  Vittoria  found 
Countess  Ammiani  at  her  husband's  tomb,  stiff,  colourless, 
lifeless  as  a  monument  attached  to  the  tomb. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CLOSR  OF  THE  LOMBARD  CAMPAIGN. — VITTORIA's   PERPLEXITY. 

The  fall  of  Vicenza  turned  a  tide  that  had  overflowed  its 
barriers  with  force  enough  to  roll  it  to  the  Adriatic.  Prom 
that  day  it  was  as  if  a  violent  wind  blew  East  over  Lom- 
bardy  ;  flood  and  wind  breaking  here  and  there  a  tree,  bow- 
ing everything  before  them.  City,  fortress,  and  battle-field 
resisted  as  the  eddy  whirls.  Venice  kept  her  brave  colours 
streaming  aloft  in  a  mighty  grasp  despite  the  storm,  but 
between  Venice  and  Milan  there  was  this  unutterable  devas- 
tation,— so  sudden  a  change,  so  complete  a  reversal  of  the 
shield,  that  the  Lombards  were  at  first  incredulous  even  in 
their  agony,  and  set  their  faces  against  it  as  at  a  monstrous 
eclipse,  as  though  the  heavens  were  taking  false  oath  of  its 
being  night  when  it  was  day.     From  Vicenza  and  Rivoli,  to 


3G6  VITTORIA. 

SommacampagTia,  and  across  Monte  Godio  to  Custozza,  to 
Volta  on  the  I'ight  of  the  Mincio,  up  to  the  gates  of  Milan, 
the  line  of  fire  travelled,  with  a  fantastic  overbearing  swift- 
ness that,  upon  the  map,  looks  like  the  zigzag  elbowing  of  a 
field- rocket.  Vicenza  fell  on  the  11th  of  June  ;  the  Austrians 
entered  Milan  on  the  6th  of  August.  Within  that  short 
time  the  Lombards  were  struck  to  the  dust. 

Countess  Ammiani  quitted  Brescia  for  Bergamo  before  the 
worst  had  happened ;  when  nothing  but  the  king's  retreat 
upon  the  Lombard  capital,  after  the  good  fight  at  Volta,  was 
known.  According  to  the  king's  proclamation  the  Piedmon- 
tese  army  was  to  defend  Milan,  and  hope  was  not  dead. 
Vittoria  succeeded  in  repressing  all  useless  signs  of  grief  in 
the  presence  of  the  venerable  lady,  who  herself  showed  none, 
but  simply  recommended  her  accepted  daughter  to  pray 
daily.  "  I  can  neither  confess  nor  pray,"  Vittoria  said  to 
the  priest,  a  comfortable,  irritable  ecclesiastic,  long  attached 
to  the  family,  and  little  able  to  deal  with  this  rebel  before 
Providence,  that  would  not  let  her  swollen  spirit  be  bled. 
Yet  she  admitted  to  him  that  the  countess  possessed 
resources  which  she  could  find  nowhere ;  and  she  saw  the 
full  beauty  of  such  inimitable  grave  endurance.  Vittoria's 
foolish  trick  of  thinking  for  herself  made  her  believe,  never- 
theless, that  the  countess  suffered  more  than  she  betrayed ; 
was  less  consoled  than  her  spiritual  comforter  imagined. 
She  continued  obstinate  and  unrepentant,  saying,  "  If  my 
punishment  is  to  come,  it  will  at  least  bz'ing  experience  with 
it,  and  I  shall  know  why  I  am  punished.  The  misery  now 
is  that  I  do  not  know,  and  do  not  see,  the  justice  of  the  sen- 
tence." 

Countess  Ammiani  thought  better  of  her  case  than  the 
priest  did ;  or  she  was  more  indulgent,  or  half  indifferent. 
This  girl  was  Carlo's  choice ; — a  strange  choice,  but  the 
times  were  strange,  and  the^irl  was  robust.  The  channels 
of  her  own  and  her  husband's  house  were  drying  on  all  sides ; 
the  house  wanted  resuscitating.  There  was  promise  that  the 
girl  would  bear  children  of  strong  blood.  Countess  Ammiani 
would  not  for  one  moment  have  allowed  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  the  children  to  hang  in  dubitation,  awaiting  their  expe- 
rience of  life ;  but  a  certain  satisfaction  was  shown  in  her 
faint  smile  when  her  confessor  lamented  over  Vittoria's 
proud  stony  state  of  moral  I'evolt.     She  said  to  her  accepted 


CLOSS  OP  THE  L0M3AED  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  367 

daughter,  "  I  shall  expect  yon  to  be  prepared  to  espouse  my 
son  as  soon  as  I  have  him  by  my  side;"  nor  did  Vittoria'a 
silent  bowing  of  her  face  assure  her  that  strict  obedience  \va,a 
implied.  Precise  words — "  I  will,"  and  "  I  will  not  fail  " — 
were  exacted.  The  countess  showed  some  emotion  after 
Vittoria  had  spoken.  "  Now,  may  God  end  this  war  quickly, 
if  it  is  to  go  against  us,"  she  exclaimed,  trembling  in  her 
chair  visibly  a  half-minute,  with  dropped  eyelids  and  b'ps 
moving. 

Carlo  had  sent  word  that  he  would  joiv  his  mother  as 
early  as  he  was  disengaged  from  active  sei'vice,  and  mean- 
time requested  her  to  proceed  to  a  villa  on  Lago  Maggiore. 
Vittoria  obtained  permission  from  the  countess  to  order  the 
route  of  the  carriage  through  Milan,  where  she  wished  to 
take  up  her  mother  and  her  maid  Giacintq,.  For  other 
reasons  she  would  have  avoided  the  city.  The  thought  of 
entering  it  was  painful  with  the  shrewdest  pain.  Dante's 
profoundly  human  line  seemed  branded  on  the  forehead  of 
Milan. 

The  morning  was  dark  when  they  drove  through  the 
streets  of  Bergamo.  Pa.ssing  one  of  the  open  pbvces,  Vittoria 
beheld  a  great  concourse  of  volunteer  youth  and  citizens,  all 
of  them  listening  to  the  voice  of  one  who  stood  a  few  steps 
above  them  holding  a  banner.  She  gave  an  outcry  of  bitter 
joy.  It  was  the  Chief.  On  one  side  of  him  was  Agostino, 
in  the  midst  of  memorable  heads  that  were  unknown  to  her. 
The  countess  refused  to  stay,  though  Vittoria  strained  her 
hands  together  in  extreme  entreaty  that  she  might  for  a  few 
moments  hear  what  the  others  were  hearing.  "  I  speak  for 
my  son,  and  I  forbid  it,"  Countess  Ammiani  said.  Vittoria 
fell  back  and  closed  her  eyes  to  cherish  the  vision.  All 
those  faces  raised  to  the  one  speaker  under  the  dark  sky 
were  beautiful.  He  had  breathed  some  new  glory  of  hope 
in  them,  making  them  shine  beneath  the  overcast  heavens, 
as  when  the  sun  breaks  from  an  evening  cloud  and  flushes 
the  stems  of  a  company  of  pine-trees. 

Along  the  road  to  Milan  she  kept  imagining  his  utterance 
until  her  heart  rose  with  music.  A  delicious  stream  of 
music,  thin  as  poor  tears,  passed  through  her  frame,  like  a 
life  reviving.  She  reached  Milan  in  a  mood  to  bear  the  idea 
of  temporary  defeat.  Music  had  forsaken  her  so  long  that 
celestial  reassurauces  seemed  to  return  with  it. 


368  VITTORIA. 

Her  mother  wag  at  Zotti's,  very  querulous,  but  determined 
not  to  leave  the  house  and  the  few  people  she  knew.  She 
had,  as  she  told  her,  daughter,  fretted  so  much  on  her 
account  that  she  hardly  knew  whether  she  was  glad  to 
see  her.  Tea,  of  course,  she  had  given  up  all  thoughts  of; 
but  now  coffee  was  rising,  and  the  boasted  sweet  bread 
of  Lombardy  was  something  to  look  at !  She  trusted  that 
Emilia  would  soon  think  of  singing  no  more,  and  letting 
people  rest :  she  might  sing  when  she  wanted  money.  A 
letter  recently  received  from  Mr.  Pericles  said  that  Italy 
was  her  child's  ruin,  and  she  hoped  Emilia  was  ready  to  do 
as  he  advised,  and  hurry  to  England,  where  singing  did  not 

upset  people,  and  people  lived  like  real  Christians,  not 

Vittoria  flapped  her  hand,  and  would  not  hear  of  the  un- 
christian  crimes  of  the  South.  As  regarded  the  expected 
defence  of  Milan,  the  little  woman  said  that,  if  it  brought 
on  a  bombardment,  she  would  call  it  unpardonable  wicked- 
ness, and  only  hoped  that  her  daughter  would  repent. 

Zotti  stood  by,  interpreting  the  English  to  himself  by 
tones.  "  The  amiable  donnina  is  not  of  our  persuasion,"  he 
observed.  "  She  remains  dissatisfied  with  patriotic  Milan. 
1  have  exhibited  to  her  my  dabs  of  bread  through  all  the 
processes  of  making  and  baking.  It  is  in  vain.  She  rejects 
analogy.  She  is  wilful  as  a  principessina : — 'Tis  so  !  His  not 
so !  'tis  my  will !  be  silent,  thou  !  Signora,  I  have  been 
treated  in  that  way  by  your  excellent  mother." 

"Zotti  has  not  been  paid  for  three  weeks,  and  he  certainly 
has  not  mentioned  it  or  looked  it,  I  will  say,  Emilia." 

"  Zotti  has  had  something  to  think  of  during  the  last  three 
weeks,"  said  Vittoria,  touching  him  kindly  on  the  arm. 

The  confectioner  lifted  his  fingers  and  his  big  brown  eyes 
after  them,  expressive  of  the  unutterable  thoughts.  He 
informed  her  that  he  had  laid  in  a  stock  of  flour,  in  the 
expectation  that  Carlo  Alberto  would  defend  the  city.  The 
Milanese  were  ready  to  aid  him,  though  some,  as  Zotti  con- 
fessed, had  ceased  to  effervesce ;  and  a  great  number  who 
were  perfectly  ready  to  fight  regarded  his  tardy  appeal  to 
Italian  patriotism  very  coldly.  Zotti  set  out  in  person  to 
discover  Giacinta.  The  girl  could  hardly  fetch  her  breath 
when  she  saw  her  mistress.  She  was  in  Laura's  service, 
and  said  that  Laura  had  brought  a  wounded  Englishman 
from  the  field   of   Custozza.      Vittoria   hurried  to    Laura, 


CLOSE  or  THE  LOMBARD  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  369 

■vrith  Tvliom  she  found  Merthj^r,  blue-white  as  a  corpse, 
having  been  shot  thi-ough  the  body.  His  sister  was  in  one 
of  the  Lombard  hamlets,  unaware  of  his  fall;  Beppo  had 
been  sent  to  her. 

They  noticed  one  another's  embro^vned  complexions,  but 
embraced  silently.  "  Twice  widowed ! "  Laura  said  when 
they  sat  together.  Laui'a  hushed  all  speaking  of  the  war  or 
allusion  to  a  single  incident  of  the  miserable  campaign, 
beyond  the  bare  recital  of  Vittoria's  adventui-es ;  yet  when 
Yicenza  by  chance  was  mentioned,  she  burst  out :  "  They  are 
not  cities,  they  are  living  shrieks.  They  have  been  made 
impious  for  ever.  Bum  them  to  ashes,  that  they  may  not 
breathe  foul  upon  heaven!"  She  had  clung  to  the  skirts  of 
the  army  as  far  as  the  field  of  Custozza.  "  He,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  room  where  Merthyr  lay, — "  he  groans  less 
than  the  othei-s  I  have  nursed.  Generally,  when  they 
looked  at  me,  they  appeared  obliged  to  recollect  that  it  was 
not  I  who  had  hurt  them.  Poor  souls  !  some  ended  in  great 
torment.  I  think  of  them  as  the  happiest ;  for  pain  is  a 
cloak  that  wraps  you  about,  and  I  remember  one  middle-aged 
man  who  died  softly  at  Custozza,  and  said,  '  Beaten  ! '  To 
take  that  thought  as  your  travelling  companion  into  the  gulf, 
must  be  worse  than  dying  of  agony ;  at  least,  1  think  so." 

Vittoria  was  too  well  used  to  Laura's  way  of  meeting  dis- 
aster to  expect  from  her  other  than  this  ironical  fortitude,  in 
which  the  fortitude  leaned  so  much  upon  the  irony.  What 
really  astonished  her  was  the  conception  Laura  had  taken  of 
the  might  of  Austria.  Laura  did  not  directly  speak  of  it, 
but  shadowed  it  in  allusive  hints,  much  as  if  she  had  in  her 
mind  the  image  of  an  iron  roller  going  over  a  field  of  flowers 
— hateful,  imminent,  irresistible.  She  felt  as  a  leaf  that  has 
been  flying  before  the  gale. 

Merthyr's  wound  was  severe.  Vittoria  could  not  leave 
him.  Her  resolution  to  stay  in  Milan  brought  her  into 
collision  with  Countess  Ammiani,  when  the  countess  reminded 
her  of  her  promise,  sedately  informing  her  that  she  was  no 
longer  her  own  mistress,  and  had  a  primary  duty  to  fulfil. 
She  offered  to  wait  three  days,  or  until  the  safety  of  tlio 
wounded  man  was  medically  ccrtifled  to.  It  was  incompre- 
hensible to  her  that  Vittoria  should  reject  her  terms  ;  aiuj 
though  it  was  true  that  she  would  not  have  listened  to  a 
reason,  she  was    indignant   at   not    hearing    one   giver    in 

2b 


370  VITTORIA. 

mitigation  of  tlie  ofFcnce.  She  set  out  alone  on  "her  Journey, 
deeply  hurt.  The  reason  was  a  feminine  sentiment,  and 
Vittoria  was  naturally  unable  to  speak  it.  She  shrank  with 
pathetic  horror  from  the  thought  of  Merthjrr's  rising  from 
his  couch  to  find  her  a  mai-ried  woman,  and  desired  most 
earnestly  that  her  marriage  should  be  witnessed  by  him. 
Young  women  will  know  how  to  reconcile  the  opposition  of 
the  sentiment.  Had  Merthyr  been  only  slightly  wounded, 
and  sound  enough  to  seem  to  be  able  to  bear  a  bitter  shock, 
she  would  not  have  allowed  her  personal  feelings  to  cause 
chagrin  to  the  noble  lady.  The  sight  of  her  dear  steadfast 
friend  prostrate  in  the  cause  of  Italy,  and  who,  if  he  lived  to 
i-ise  again,  might  not  have  his  natural  strength  to  bear  the 
thought  of  her  loss  with  his  old  brave  firmness,  made  it 
impossible  for  her  to  act  decisively  in  one  direct  line  of 
conduct. 

Countess  Ammiani  wrote  brief  letters  from  Luino  and 
Pallanza  on  Lago  Maggiore.  She  said  that  Carlo  was  in  the 
Como  mountains  ;  he  would  expect  to  find  his  bride,  and 
would  accuse  his  mother;  "but  his  mother  will  be  spared 
those  reproaches,"  she  added,  "  if  the  last  shot  fired  kills,  as 
it  generally  does,  the  bravest  and  the  dearest." 

"  If  it  should !" — the  thought  rose  on  a  quick  breath  in 
Vittoria's  bosom,  and  the  sentiment  which  held  her  away 
dispersed  like  a  feeble  smoke,  and  showed  her  another  view 
of  her  features.  She  wept  with  longing  for  love  and  depend- 
ence. She  was  sick  of  personal  freedom,  tired  of  the  exer- 
cise of  her  will,  only  too  eager  to  give  herself  to  her  beloved. 
The  blessedness  of  marriage,  of  peace  and  dependence,  came 
on  her  imagination  like  a  soft  breeze  from  a  hidden  garden, 
like  sleep.  But  this  very  longing  created  the  resistance  to 
it  in  the  depths  of  her  soul.  There  was  a  light  as  of  reviving 
life,  or  of  pain  comforted,  when  it  was  she  who  was  sitting 
by  Merthyr's  side,  and  when  at  times  she  saw  the  hopeless 
effort  of  his  hand  to  reach  to  hers,  or  dui-ing  the  long  still 
hours  she  laid  her  head  on  his  pillow,  and  knew  that  he 
breathed  gratefully.  The  sweetness  of  helping  him,  and  of 
making  his  breathing  pleasant  to  him,  closed  much  of  the 
world  which  lay  beyond  her  windows  to  her  thoughts,  and 
surprised  her  with  an  unknown  emotion,  so  strange  to  her 
that  when  it  fii-st  swept  up  her  veins  she  had  the  fancy  that 
she  had  been  touched  by  a  supernatural  hand,  and  should 


CLOSE  OP  THE  LOMBARD  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  371 

have  heai'd  a  flying  accord  of  instruments.  She  was  pray- 
ing- before  she  knew  what  prayer  was.  A  crucifix  hung 
over  Merthyr's  head.  She  had  looked  on  it  many  times,  and 
looked  on  it  still,  without  seeing  more  than  the  old  soitow. 
In  the  night  it  was  dim.  She  found  herself  trying  to  read 
the  features  of  the  thorn-crowned  Head  in  the  solitary  night. 
She  and  it  were  alone  with  a  life  that  was  faint  above  the 
engulphing  darkness.  She  prayed  for  the  life,  and  trembled, 
and  shed  tears,  and  would  have  checked  them ;  they  seemed 
to  be  bearing  away  her  little  remaining  strength.  The  tears 
streamed.  No  answer  was  given  to  her  question,  "  Why  do 
I  weep  ?"  She  wept  when  Merthyr  had  iiassed  the  danger, 
as  she  had  wept  when  the  hours  went  by  with  shrouded 
visages ;  and  though  she  felt  the  difference  in  the  springs  of 
her  tears,  she  thought  them  but  a  simple  form  of  weakness 
showing  shade  and  light. 

These  tears  were  a  vanward  wave  of  the  sea  to  follow ; 
the  rising  of  her  voice  to  heaven  was  no  more  than  a  twitter 
of  the  earliest  dawn  before  the  coming  of  her  soul's  outcry, 

"  I  have  had  a  weeping  fit,"  she  thought,  and  resolved  to 
remember  it  tenderly,  as  being  associated  with  her  friend's 
recovery,  and  a  singular  masterful  power  absolutely  to  look 
on  the  Austrians  marching  up  the  streets  of  Milan,  and  not 
to  feel  the  surging  hatred,  or  the  nerveless  despair,  which 
she  had  supposed  must  be  her  alternatives. 

It  is  a  mean  image  to  say  that  the  entry  of  the  Austrians 
into  the  reconquered  city  was  like  a  river  of  oil  permeating 
a  lake  of  vinegar,  but  it  presents  the  fact  in  every  sense. 
They  demanded  nothing  more  than  submission,  and  placed  a 
gentle  foot  upon  the  fallen  enemy ;  and  wherever  they 
appeared  they  were  isolated.  The  deepest  wrath  of  the  city 
was,  nevertheless,  not  directed  against  them,  but  against 
Carlo  Alberto,  who  had  pledged  his  honour  to  defend  it,  and 
had  forsaken  it.  Vittoria  committed  a  public  indiscretion 
on  the  day  when  the  king  left  Milan  to  its  fate :  word 
whereof  was  conveyed  to  Carlo  Ammianl,  and  he  wrote  to 
her. 

"  It  is  right  that  I  should  tell  you  what  I  have  heard,"  the 
letter  said.  "  I  have  heard  that  my  bride  drove  up  to  the 
crowned  traitor,  after  he  had  unmasked  himself,  and  when 
he  was  quitting  the  (jreppi  pahtce,  and  that  she  kissed  his 
hand  before  the  people — poor   bleeding   people  of  Milan  ! 

2b2 


372  VITTOEIA. 

This  is  what  I  hear  in  the  Yal  d'Intelvi  : — that  she  despised 
the  misery  and  just  anger  of  the  people,  and,  by  virtue  of 
her  name  and  mine,  obtained  a  way  for  him.  How  can  she 
have  acted  so  as  to  give  a  colour  to  this  infamous  scandal  ? 
True  or  false,  it  does  not  affect  my  love  for  her.  Still,  my 
dearest,  what  shall  I  say  ?  You  keep  me  divided  in  two 
halves.  My  heart  is  out  of  me ;  and  if  I  had  a  will,  I  think 
I  should  be  harsh  with  you.  You  are  absent  from  my 
mother  at  a  time  when  we  are  about  to  strike  another  blow. 
Gro  to  her.  It  is  kindness  ;  it  is  charity  :  I  do  not  say  daty. 
I  remember  that  I  did  write  harshly  to  you  from  Brescia. 
Then  our  march  was  so  clear  in  view  that  a  little  thing 
ruffled  me.  Was  it  a  little  thing  ?  But  to  applaud  the 
Traitor  now !  To  uphold  him  who  has  spilt  our  blood  only 
to  hand  the  country  over  to  the  old  gaolers  !  He  lent  us  his 
army  like  a  Jew,  for  huge  interest.  Can  you  not  read  him  ? 
If  not,  cease,  I  implore  you,  to  think  at  all  for  yourself. 

"  Is  this  a  lover's  letter  ?  I  know  that  my  beloved  will 
see  the  love  in  it.  To  me  your  acts  are  fair  and  good  as  the 
chronicle  of  a  saint.  I  iind  you  creating  suspicion — almost 
justifying  it  in  others,  and  putting  your  name  in  the  mouth 
of  a  madman  who  denounces  you.  I  shall  not  speak  more  of 
him.  Remember  that  my  faith  in  you  is  unchangeable,  and 
I  pray  you  to  have  the  same  in  me. 

"  I  sent  you  a  greeting  from  the  Chief.  He  marched  in 
the  ranks  from  Bergamo.  I  saw  him  on  the  line  of  march 
strip  off  his  coat  to  shelter  a  young  lad  from  the  heavy  rain. 
He  is  not  discouraged ;  none  are  who  have  been  near  hira. 

"  Angelo  is  here,  and  so  is  our  Agostino  ;  and  I  assure  you 
lie  loads  and  fires  a  carbine  much  more  deliberately  than  he 
composes  a  sonnet.  I  am  afraid  that  your  adored  Antonio- 
Pericles  fared  badly  among  our  fellows,  but  I  could  gather 
no  particulars. 

"  Oh  !  the  bright  two  minutes  when  I  held  you  right  in 
my  heart.  That  spot  on  the  Vicentino  is  alone  unclouded. 
If  I  live  I  will  have  that  bit  of  gi^ound.  I  will  make  a 
temple  of  it.     I  could  reach  it  blindfolded." 

A  lownsman  of  Milan  brought  this  letter  to  Vittoria.  She 
despatched  Luigi  with  her  reply,  which  met  the  charge  in  a 
straightforward  affirmative. 

"  1  was  driving  to  Zotti's  by  the  Greppi  palace,  when  I 
saw  the  king  come  foi-th,  and  the   people  hooted  him.     I 


CLOSE  OP  THE  LOMBAED  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  373 

stood  up,  and  petitioned  to  kiss  his  hand.     The  people  knew 
me.     They  did  not  hoot  any  more  for  some  time. 

"  So  that  yoTi  have  heard  the  truth,  and  you  must  judge 
me  by  it.  I  cannot  even  add  that  I  am  sony,  though  I  strive 
to  wish  that  I  had  not  been  present.  I  might  wish  it  really, 
if  I  did  not  feel  it  to  be  a  cowardly  wish. 

"  Oh,  my  Carlo  !  my  lover  !  my  husband  '  you  would  not 
have  me  go  against  my  nature  ?  I  have  seen  the  king  upon 
the  battle-field.  He  has  deigned  to  speak  to  me  of  Italy 
and  our  freedom.  I  have  seen  him  facing  our  enemy ;  and 
to  see  him  hooted  by  the  people,  and  in  misfortune  and  with 
sad  eyes  ! — he  looked  sad  and  nothing  else — and  besides,  I 
am  sure  I  know  the  king.  I  mean  that  I  understand  him. 
I  am  half  ashamed  to  write  so  boldly,  even  to  you.  I  say  to 
myself  you  should  know  me,  at  least ;  and  if  I  am  guilty  of 
a  piece  of  vanity,  you  should  know  that  also.  Carlo  Alberto 
is  quite  unlike  other  men.  He  worships  success  as  much  ; 
but  they  are  not,  as  he  is,  so  much  bettered  by  adversity. 
Indeed  I  do  not  believe  that  he  has  exact  intentions  of  any 
sort,  or  ever  had  the  intention  to  betray  us,  or  has  done  so 
in  reality,  that  is,  meaningly,  of  his  own  will.  Count  Medole 
and  his  party  did,  as  you  know,  oifer  Lombardy  to  him,  and 
Venice  gave  herself — brave,  noble  Venice !  Oh  !  if  we  two 
were  there — Venice  has  England's  sea- spirit.  But  did  we 
not  flatter  the  king  ?  And  ask  yourself,  my  Carlo,  could  a 
king  move  in  such  an  enterprise  as  a  common  person  ?  Ought 
we  not  to  be  in  union  with  Sardinia  ?  How  can  we  be  if  we 
reject  her  king  ?  Is  it  not  the  only  positive  army  that  wo 
can  look  to — I  mean  regular  army  ?  Should  we  not  make 
some  excuses  for  one  who  is  not  in  our  position  ? 

"  I  feel  that  I  push  my  questions  like  waves  that  fall  and 
cannot  get  beyond — they  crave  so  for  answers  agreeing  to 
them.  This  should  make  me  doubt  myself,  perhaps  ;  but 
they  crowd  again,  and  seem  so  conclusive  until  I  have 
written  them  down.  I  am  unworthy  to  struggle  with  your 
intellect ;  but  I  say  to  myself,  how  unworthy  of  you  I  should 
be  if  I  did  not  use  my  own,  such  as  it  is  !  The  poor  king 
had  to  conclude  an  armistice  to  save  his  little  kingdom. 
Perhaps  we  ought  to  think  of  that  sternly.  My  heart  is 
filled  with  pity. 

"  It  cannot  but  be  right  that  you  should  know  the  worst 
of  me.     I  call  you  my  husband,  and  tremble  to  be  permitted 


374  VITTORIA. 

to  lean  my  head  on  your  bosom  for  hours,  my  sweet  lover! 
And  yet  my  cowardice,  if  I  had  let  the  king  go  by  without  a 
reverential  greeting  from  me,  in  his  adversity,  would  have 
rendered  me  insufferable  to  myself.  You  are  hearing  me, 
and  I  am  compelled  to  say,  that  rather  than  behave  so 
basely  I  would  forfeit  your  love,  and  be  widowed  till  death 
should  offer  us  for  God  to  join  us.  Does  your  face  change 
to  me  ? 

"  Dearest,  and  I  say  it  when  the  thought  of  you  sets  me 
almost  swooning.  I  find  my  hands  clasped,  and  I  am  mut- 
tering I  know  not  what,  and  I  am  blushing.  The  ground 
seems  to  rock  ;  I  can  barely  breathe ;  my  heart  is  like  a  bird 
caught  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  boy :  it  will  not  rest.  I  fear 
everything.  I  hear  a  whisper,  '  Delay  not  an  instant !'  and  it 
is  like  a  furnace ;  '  Hasten  to  him !  Speed !'  and  I  seera  to 
totter  forward  and  drop — I  think  I  have  lost  you — I  am  like 
one  dead. 

"  I  remain  here  to  nurse  our  dear  friend  Merthyr.  For 
that  reason  I  am  absent  from  your  mother.  It  is  her  desire 
that  we  should  be  manned. 

"  Soon,  soon,  my  own  soul ! 

"  I  seem  to  be  hanging  on  a  tree  for  you,  swayed  by  such 
a  teazing  wind. 

"  Oh,  soon !  or  I  feel  that  I  shall  hate  any  vestige  of  will 
that  I  have  in  this  head  of  mine.  Not  in  the  heart — it  is 
not  there ! 

"  And  sometimes  I  am  burning  to  sing.  The  voice  leaps 
to  my  lips ;  it  is  quite  like  a  thing  that  lives  apart — my 
prisoner. 

"  It  is  true,  Laura  is  here  with  Merthyr. 

"  Could  you  come  at  once  ? — not  here,  but  to  Pallanza  ? 
We  shall  both  make  our  mother  happy.  This  she  wishes, 
this  she  lives  for,  this  consoles  her — and  oh,  this  gives  me 
peace  !  Yes,  Merthyr  is  recovering !  I  can  leave  him  with- 
out the  dread  I  had ;  and  Laura  coiifesses  to  the  feminine 
sentiment,  if  her  funny  jealousy  of  a  rival  nurse  is  really 
simply  feminine.  She  will  be  glad  of  our  resolve,  I  am  sure. 
And  then  you  will  order  all  my  actions  ;  and  I  shall  be  cer- 
tain that  they  are  such  as  I  would  proudly  call  mine  ;  and  I 
shall  be  shut  away  from  the  world.  Yes ;  let  it  be  so  ! 
Addio.  I  reserve  all  SAveet  names  for  jou.  Addio.  In 
Pallanza  : — no  not  Pallanza — Paradise  I 


CLOSE  OF  THE  LOMBARD  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  375 

"  Hnsli !  and  do  not  smile  at  me : — it  was  not  my  tcill,  I 
discover,  but  my  want  of  will,  that  distracted  me. 

"  See  my  last  signature  of — not  Vittoria;  for  1  may  sign 
tliat  again  and  still  be  Emilia  Alessandra  Ammiani — 

"  Sandra  Belloni." 

The  letter  was  sealed ;  Luigi  bore  it  away,  and  a  brief 
letter  to  Countess  Ammiani,  in  Pallanza,  as  well. 

Vittoria  was  relieved  of  her  anxiety  concerning  Mertbyr 
by  the  arrival  of  Georgiana,  who  had  been  compelled  to 
make  her  way  round  by  Piacenza  and  Turin,  where  she  had 
left  Gambler,  with  Beppo  in  attendance  on  him.  Georgiana 
at  once  assumed  all  the  duties  of  head-nurse,  and  the  more 
resolutely  because  of  her  brother's  evident  moral  weakness 
in  sighing  for  the  hand  of  a  fickle  girl  to  smooth  his  pillow. 
"  When  he  is  stronger  you  can  sit  beside  him  a  little,"  she 
said  to  Vittoria,  who  surrendered  her  post  without  a  struggle, 
and  rarely  saw  him,  though  Laura  told  her  that  his  frequent 
exclamation  was  her  name,  accompanied  by  a  soft  look  at 
his  sister — "which  would  have  stirred  my  heart  like  poor 
old  Milan  last  March,"  Laura  added,  with  a  lift  of  her 
ehoulders. 

Georgiana's  icy  manner  appeared  infinitely  strange  to 
Vittoria  when  she  heard  from  Mertbyr  that  his  sister  had 
become  engaged  to  Captain  Gambler. 

"  Nothing  softens  these  women,"  said  Laura,  putting 
Georgiana  in  a  class. 

"  I  wish  you  could  try  the  effect  of  your  winning  Merthyr," 
Vittoria  suggested. 

"  I  remember  that  when  I  went  to  my  husband,  I  likewise 
wanted  every  woman  of  my  acquaintance  to  be  married." 
Laura  sighed  deeply.  "  What  is  this  poor  withered  body  of 
mine  now  ?  It  feels  like  an  old  volcano,  cindery,  with  riro 
somewhere  : — a  charming  bride  !  My  dear,  if  I  live  till  my 
children  make  me  a  grandmother,  I  shall  look  on  the  love  of 
men  and  women  as  a  toy  that  I  have  played  with.  A  new 
husband  ?  I  must  be  di-agged  through  the  Circles  of  Dante 
before  I  can  conceive  it,  and  then  I  should  loathe  the 
stranger." 

News  came  that  the  volunteers  were  crushed.  It  was 
time  for  Vittoria  to  start  for  Pallanza,  and  she  thought  of 
her  leave-taking;  a  final  leave-taking,  in  one  sense,  to  the 


376  VITTOEIA. 

friends  who  had  cared  too  nnich  for  her,  Lanra  delicately 
drew  G  eorgiana  aside  in  the  sick-room,  which  she  would  not 
quit,  and  alluded  to  the  necessity  for  Vittoria's  departure 
without  stating  exactly  wherefore  :  but  Georgiana  was  a 
Welshwoman.  Partly  to  show  her  accurate  power  of  guess- 
ing, and  chiefly  that  she  might  reprove  Laura's  insulting 
whisper,  which  outraged  and  irritated  her  as  much  as  if 
"Oh!  your  poor  brother!"  had  been  exclaimed,  she  made 
display  of  Merthyr's  manly  coldness  by  saying  aloud,  "  You 
mean,  that  she  is  going  to  her  marriage."  Laura  turned  her 
face  to  Merthyr.  He  had  striven  to  rise  on  his  elbow,  and 
had  dropped  flat  in  his  helplessness.  Big  tears  were  rolling 
down  his  cheeks.  His  articulation  failed  him,  beyond  a 
reiterated  "  No,  no,"  pitiful  to  hear,  and  he  broke  into 
childish  sobs.  Georgiana  hurried  Laura  from  the  room. 
By-and-by  the  doctor  was  promptly  summoned,  and  it  was 
Georgiana  herself,  miserably  humbled,  who  obtained  Vit- 
toria's sworn  consent  to  keep  the  life  in  Merthyr  by  lingering 
yet  awhile. 

Meantime  Luigi  brought  a  letter  from  Pallanza  in  Carlo's 
handwriting.     This  was  the  burden  of  it : — 

*'  I  am  here,  and  you  are  absent.     Hasten  1'* 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A    FRESH    ENTANGLEMENT. 

The  Lenkenstein  ladies  returned  to  Milan  proudly  in  the 
path  of  the  army  which  they  had  followed  along  the  city 
walls  on  the  black  March  midnight.  The  ladies  of  the  Aus- 
trian aristocracy  generally  had  to  be  exiles  from  Vienna,  and 
were  glad  to  flock  together  even  in  an  alien  city.  Anna  and 
Lena  were  aware  of  Vittoria's  residence  in  Milan,  through 
the  interchange  of  visits  between  the  Countess  of  Lenken- 
s+ein  and  her  sister  Signora  Piaveni.  They  heard  also  ol 
Vittoria's  prospective  and  approaching  marriage  to  Count 
Aramiani.  The  Duchess  of  Gratitli,  who  had  forborne  a  visit 
to  her  unhappy  friends,  lest  her  Austrian  face  should  wound 
their  sensitiveness,  was  in  company  with  the  Lenkensteins 


A  FRESH  ENTANGLEMENT.  377 

one  day,  wTien  Irnia  di  Karski  called  on  tliem.  Irma  had 
come  from  Lago  Maggiore,  where  she  had  left  her  patron,  as 
she  was  pleased  to  term  Antonio- Pericles.  She  was  full  of 
chatter  of  that  most  worth}'  man's  deplorable  experiences  of 
Vittoria's  behaviour  to  him  during  the  war,  and  of  many 
things  besides.  According  to  her  account,  Vittoria  had  en- 
ticed him  from  place  to  place  with  promises  that  the  next 
day,  and  the  next  day,  and  the  day  after,  she  would  be  ready 
to  keep  her  engagement  to  go  to  London,  and  at  last  she  had 
given  him  the  slip  and  left  him  to  be  plucked  like  a  pullet  by 
a  horde  of  volunteer  banditti,  out  of  Avhose  hands  Antonio- 
Pericles — "  one  of  our  richest  millionaires  in  Europe,  cer- 
tainly our  richest  amateur,"  said  Irma — escaped  in  tit  outward 
condition  for  the  garden  of  Eden. 

Count  Karl  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  and  went  into  endless 
invalid's  laughter  at  the  picture  presented  by  Irma  of  the 
'  wild  man  '  wanderings  of  poor  infatuated  Pericles,  which 
was  exaggerated,  though  not  intentionally,  for  Irma  repeated 
the  words  and  gestures  of  Pericles  in  the  recital  of  his  tribu- 
lations. Being  of  a  somewhat  similar  physical  organization, 
she  did  it  very  laughably.  Irma  declared  that  Pericles  was 
cured  of  his  infatuation.  He  had  got  to  Turin,  intending 
to  quit  Italy  for  ever,  when — "  he  met  me,"  said  Irma 
modestly. 

"  And  heard  that  the  war  was  at  an  end,"  Count  Karl  added, 

"  And  he  has  taken  the  superb  Villa  Ricciardi,  on  Lago 
Maggiore,  where  he  will  have  a  troupe  of  singers,  and  per- 
form operas,  in  which  I  believe  I  may  possibly  act  as  prima 
donna.  The  truth  is,  I  would  do  anything  to  prevent  him 
from  leaving  the  country." 

But  Irma  had  more  to  say;  with  "I  bear  no  malice,"  she 
commenced  it.  The  story  she  had  heard  was  that  Count 
Ammiani,  after  plighting  himself  to  a  certain  signorina, 
known  as  Vittoria  Campa,  liad  received  tidings  that  she  was 
one  of  those  persons  who  bring  discredit  on  Irma's  profession. 
*'  Gifted  by  nature,  I  can  acknowledge,"  said  Irma ;  "  but 
devoured  by  vanity — a  perfect  slave  to  the  appetite  for  pi-aise ; 
ready  to  forfeit  anything  for  flattery !  Poor  signor  Antonio- 
Pericles  ! — he  knows  her.''  And  now  Count  Ammiani,  per- 
Buadod  to  reason  by  his  mother,  had  given  her  up.  There 
was  nothing  more  positive,  for  irma  had  seen  him  in  the 
society  of  Countess  Violetta  d'Isorella. 


378  VITTORIA. 

Anna  and  Lena  glanced  at  their  brother  Karl, 
"I  should  not  allude  to  what  is  not  notorious,"  Irma 
pursued.  "  They  are  always  together.  My  dear  Antonio- 
Pericles  is  most  amusing  in  his  expressions  of  delight  at  it. 
For  my  part,  though  she  served  me  an  evil  turn  once, — you 
will  hardly  believe,  ladies,  that  in  her  jealousy  of  me  she  was 
guilty  of  the  most  shameful  machinations  to  get  me  out  of 
the  way  on  the  night  of  thes  first  performance  of  Camilla, — ■ 
but,  for  my  part,  I  bear  no  malice.  The  creature  is  an  inve 
terate  rebel,  and  I  dislike  her  for  that,  I  do  confess." 

"  The  signorina  Vittoi'ia  Campa  is  my  particular  and  very 
dear  friend,"  said  the  duchess. 

"  She  is  not  the  less  an  inveterate  rebel,"  said  Anna. 
Count  Karl  gave  a   long-drawn    sigh.     "Alas,  that  she 
should  have  brought  discredit  on  Friiulein  di  Karski's  pro- 
fession!" 

The  duchess  hurried  straightway  to  Laura,  with  whom 
was  Count  Serabiglione,  reviewing  the  present  posture  of 
affairs  from  the  condescending  altitudes  of  one  that  has 
foretold  it.  Laura  and  Amalia  embraced  and  went  apart. 
During  their  absence  Vittoria  came  down  to  the  count  and 
listened  to  a  familiar  illustration  of  his  theory  of  the  rela- 
tions which  should  exist  between  Italy  and  Austria,  derived 
from  the  fi'iendship  of  those  two  women. 

"  What  I  wish  you  to  see,  signorina,  is  that  such  an  alliance 
is  possible  ;  and,  if  we  supply  the  brains,  as  we  do,  is  by  no 
means  likely  to  be  degrading.  These  bears  are  absolutely 
on  their  knees  to  us  for  good  fellowship.  You  have  in- 
fluence, you  have  amazing  wit,  you  have  unparalleled  beauty, 
and,  let  me  say  it  with  the  utmost  sadness,  you  have  now 
had  experience.  "Why  will  you  not  recognize  facts  ?  Italian 
unity  !  I  have  exposed  the  fatuity — who  listens  ?  Italian 
freedom !  I  do  not  attempt  to  reason  with  my  danghtei*. 
She  is  pricked  by  an  envei  imed  fly  of  Satan.  Yet,  behold 
her  and  the  duchess  !  It  is  the  very  union  I  preach ;  and  I 
am,  I  declare  to  you,  signorina,  in  great  danger.  I  feel  it, 
but  I  persist.  I  am  in  danger"  (Count  Serabiglione  bowed 
his  head  low)  "of  the  transcendent  sin  of  scorn  of  my  species.*' 
The  little  nobleman  swayed  deploringly  in  his  chair. 
"  Nothing  is  so  perilous  for  a  soul's  salvation  as  that.  The 
one  sane  among  madmen  !  The  one  whose  I'cason  is  left  to 
him  among  thousands  who  have  forsaken  it !     I  beg  you  to 


A  FRESH  ENTANGLEMENT.  379 

realize  the  idea.  The  Emperor,  as  I  am  given  to  understand, 
is  about  to  make  public  admission  of  mj  services.  I  shall 
be  all  the  more  hated.  Tet  it  is  a  considerable  gain.  I  do 
not  deny  that  I  esteem  it  as  a  promotion  for  my  services. 
I  shall  not  be  the  first  maityr  in  this  world,  signorina." 
Count  Serabiglione  produced  a  martyr's  smile. 
"  The  profits  of  my  expected  posts  will  be,"  he  was  saying, 
with  a  reckoning  eye  cast  upward  into  his  cranium  fur 
accuracy,  when  Laura  retuj-ned,  and  Vittoria  ran  out  to  the 
duchess.  Amalia  repeated  Irma's  tattle.  A  curious  little 
twitching  of  the  brows  at  Yioletta  d'Isorella's  name  marked 
the  reception  of  it. 

"  She  is  most  lovely,"  Vittoria  said. 
"  And  absolutely  reckless." 
•'  She  is  an  old  friend  of  Count  Ammiani's.*' 
"  And  you  have  an  old  friend  here.     But  the  old  friend 
of  a  young  woman — I  need  not  say  further  than  that  it  is 
different." 

The  duchess  used  the  privilege  of  her  affection,  and  urged 
Vittoria  not  to  trifle  with  her  lover's  impatience. 

Admitted  to  the  chamber  where  Mei-thyr  lay,  she  was 
enabled  to  make  allowance  for  her  irresolution.  The  face 
of  the  wounded  man  was  like  a  lake- water  taking  light  from 
Vittoria's  presence. 

"  This  may  go  on  for  weeks,"  she  said  to  Laura. 
Three  days  later,  Vittoria  received  an  order  from  the 
Government  to  quit  the  city  within  a  prescribed  number 
of  hours,  and  her  brain  was  racked  to  discover  why  Laura 
appeared  so  little  indignant  at  the  barbarous  act  of  despotism. 
Laura  undertook  to  break  the  bad  news  to  Merthyr.  The 
parting  was  as  quiet  and  cheerful  as,  in  the  opposite  degree, 
Vittoria  had  thought  it  would  be  melancholy  and  regretful. 
"  What  a  Government !"  Merthyr  said,  and  told  her  to  let 
him  hear  of  any  changes.  "  All  changes  that  please  my 
friends  please  me." 

Vittoria  kissed  his  forehead  with  one  grateful  murmur  of 
farewell  to  the  bravest  heart  she  had  ever  known.  The 
going  to  her  happiness  seemed  more  like  going  to  something 
fatal  until  she  reached  the  Lago  Maggiore.  There  she  saw 
September  beauty,  and  felt  as  if  the  splendour  encircling 
her  were  her  bridal  decoration.  But  no  bridegroom  stood 
to  greet  her  on  the  terrace-steps  between  the  potted  orange 


380  VITTOKIA. 

and  citron  trees.     Countess  Ammiani  extended  kind  hands 
to  her  at  arms'  length. 

"  You  have  come,"  she  said.     "I  hope  that  it  is  not  too 
late." 

Vittoria  was  a  week  without  sight  of  her  lorer :  nor  did 
Countess  Ammiani  attempt  to  explain  her  words,  or  speak 
of  other  than  common  daily  things.  In  body  and  soul  Vit- 
toria had  taken  a  chill.  The  silent  blame  resting  on  her  in 
this  house  called  up  her  pride,  so  that  she  would  not  ask  any 
questions ;  and  when  Carlo  came,  she  wanted  warmth  to 
melt  her.  Their  meeting  was  that  of  two  passionless  crea- 
tures. Carlo  kissed  her  loyally,  and  courteously  inquired 
after  her  health  and  the  health  of  friends  in  Milan,  and  then 
he  rallied  his  mother.  Agostino  had  arrived  with  him,  and 
the  old  man,  being  in  one  of  his  soft  moods,  unvexed  by  hia 
conceits,  Vittoria  had  some  comfort  from  him  of  a  dull  kind. 
She  heard  Carlo  telling  his  mother  that  he  must  go  in  the 
morning.  Agostino  replied  to  her  quick  look  at  him,  "  I 
stay  ;"  and  it  seemed  like  a  little  saved  from  the  wreck,  for 
she  knew  that  she  could  speak  to  Agostino  as  she  could  not 
to  the  countess.  When  his  mother  prepared  to  retire,  Carlo 
walked  over  to  his  bride,  and  repeated  rapidly  and  brightly 
his  inquiries  after  friends  in  Milan.  She,  with  a  pure 
response  to  his  natural-unnatural  manner,  spoke  of  Merthyr 
Powys  chiefly :  to  which  he  said  several  times,  "  Dear 
fellow  !"  and  added,  "I  shall  always  love  Englishmen  for  his 
sake." 

This  gave  her  one  throb.  "  I  could  not  leave  him,  Carlo." 

"  Certainly  not,  certainly  not,"  said  Carlo.  "I  should  have 
been  happy  to  wait  on  him  myself.  I  was  busy.  I  am  still. 
I  dare  say  you  have  guessed  that  I  have- a  new  journal  in 
my  head :  the  Pallanza  Iris  is  to  be  the  name  of  it ; — to  be 
printed  in  three  colours,  to  advocate  three  principles,  in 
three  styles.  The  Legitimists,  the  Moderates,  and  the 
Republicans  are  to  proclaim  themselves  in  its  columns  in 
prose,  poetry,  and  hotch-potch.  Once  an  editor,  always  an 
editor.  The  authorities  suspect  that  something  of  the  sort 
is  about  to  be  planted,  so  I  can  only  make  occasional  visits 
here  : — therefore,  as  you  will  believe," — Carlo  let  his  voice 
fall — "  I  have  good  reason  to  hate  them  still.  They  may 
cease  to  persecute  me  soon." 

He  insisted  upon  lighting  his  mother  to  her  room.     Vit- 


A  FRESH  ENTANGLEMENT.  381 

toria  and  Agostino  sat  talking  of  the  Chief  and  the  minor 
events  of  the  war — of  Luciano,  Marco,  Giulio,  and  Ugo 
Corte — till  the  conviction  fastened  on  them  that  Carlo  would 
jiot  return,  w^hen  Agostino  stood  ap  and  said,  yawning 
wearily,  "  I'll  talk  further  to  you,  my  child,  to-morrow." 

She  begged  that  it  might  be  now. 

"  No  ;  to-morrow,"  said  he. 

•''^row,  noAv  !"  she  reiterated,  and  brought  down  a  reproof 
from  his  forefinger. 

'*  The  poetic  definition  of  '  now  '  is  that  it  is  a  small  boat, 
my  daughter,  in  which  the  female  heart  is  constantly  push- 
ing out  to  sea  and  sinking.  '  To-mori'ow'  is  an  island  in  the 
deeps,  where  grain  grows.  When  I  land  you  thei^e,  I  will 
talk  to  you." 

She  knew  that  he  went  to  join  Carlo  after  he  had  quitted 
her. 

Agostino  was  true  to  his  promise  next  day.  He  brought 
her  nearer  to  what  she  had  to  face,  though  he  did  not  help 
her  vision  much.     Carlo  had  gone  before  sunrise. 

They  sat  on  the  terrace  above  the  lake,  screened  from  the 
sunlight  by  thick  myrtle  bushes.  Agostino  smoked  his 
loosely-rolled  cigarettes,  and  Vittoria  sipped  chocolate  and 
looked  upward  to  the  summit  of  the  Motterone,  with  many 
thoughts  and  images  in  her  mind. 

He  commenced  by  giving  her  a  love-message  from  Carlo. 
"  Hold  fast  to  it  that  he  means  it :  conduct  is  never  a 
straight  index  where  the  heart's  involved,"  said  the  chuck-' 
ling  old  man ;  "  or  it  is  not  in  times  like  ours.  You  have  been 
in  the  wrong,  and  your  having  a  good  excuse  will  not  help 
you  before  the  deciding  fates.  Woman  that  you  are  !  did 
you  not  think  that  because  we  were  beaten  we  were  going  to 
rest  for  a  very  long  while,  and  that  your  Carlo  of  yesterday 
was  going  to  be  your  Carlo  of  to-day  ?" 

Vittoria  tacitly  confessed  to  it. 

"  Ay,"  he  pursued,  "  when  you  wrote  to  him  in  the  Val 
d'Intelvi,  you  supposed  you  had  only  to  say,  '  I  am  ready,' 
which  was  then  the  case.  You  made  your  summer  and  left 
the  fruits  to  hang,  and  now  jou  are  astounded  that  seasons 
pass  and  fruits  drop.  You  should  have  come  to  this  place, 
if  but  for  a  pair  of  days,  and  so  hav*  fixed  one  matter  in  the 
chapter.  This  is  how  the  chapter  has  run  on.  I  see  1  talk 
to  a  stunned  head ;  you  are  thinking  that  Carlo's  love  for 


382  VITTORIA. 

you  can't  have  dianged :  and  it  has  not,  but  occasion  has 
gone  and  times  have  changed.  Now  listen.  The  countess 
desired  the  marriage.  Carlo  could  not  go  to  you  in  Milan 
with  the  sword  in  his  hand.  Therefore  you  had  to  come  to 
him.  He  waited  for  you,  perhaps  for  his  own  preposterous 
lover's  sake  as  much  as  to  make  his  mother's  heart  easy.  If 
she  loses  him  she  loses  everything,  unless  he  leaves  a  wife  to 
her  care  and  the  hope  that  her  House  will  not  be  extinct, 
which  is  possibly  not  much  more  the  weakness  of  old  aris- 
tocracy than  of  human  nature. 

"  Meantime,  his  brothers-in-arms  had  broken  up  and 
entered  Piedmont,  and  he  remained  waiting  for  you  still. 
You  are  thinking  that  he  had  not  waited  a  month.  But  if 
four  months  finished  Lombardy,  .less  than  one  month  is 
quit-^  sufficient  to  do  the  same  for  us  little  beings.  He  met 
the  Countess  d'Isorella  here.  You  have  to  thank  her  for 
seeing  him  at  all,  so  don't  wrinkle  your  forehead  yet. 
Luciano  Romara  is  drilling  his  men  in  Piedmont ;  Angelo 
Guidascarpi  has  gone  there.  Carlo  was  considering  it  his 
duty  to  join  Luciano,  when  he  met  this  lady,  and  she  has 
apparently  succeeded  in  altering  his  plans.  Luciano  and 
his  band  will  go  to  Rome.  Carlo  fancies  that  another  blow 
will  be  struck  for  Lombardy.  This  lady  should  know ;  the 
point  is,  whether  she  can  be  trusted.  She  persists  in 
declaring  that  Carlo's  duty  is  to  remain,  and — I  cannot  tell 
how,  for  I  am  as  a  child  among  women— she  has  persuaded 
him  of  her  sincerity.  Favour  me  now  with  your  clearest 
understanding,  and  deliver  it  from  feminine  sensations  of 
any  description  for  just  two  minutes." 

Agostino  threw  away  the  end  of  a  cigarette  and  looked 
for  firmness  in  Vittoria's  eyes. 

"  This  Countess  d'Isorella  is  opposed  to  Carlo's  marriage 
at  present.  She  says  that  she  is  betraying  the  king's 
secrets,  and  has  no  reliance  on  a  woman.  As  a  woman  you 
will  pardon  her,  for  it  is  the  language  of  youi'  sex.  You 
are  also  denounced  by  Barto  Rizzo,  a  madman — he  went 
mad  as  fire,  and  had  to  be  chained  at  Varese.  In  some  way 
or  other  Countess  d'Isorella  got  possession  of  him ;  she  has 
managed  to  subdue  him.  A  sword-cut  he  received  once  in 
Verona  has  undoubtedly  affected  his  brain,  or  caused  it  to 
be  affected  under  strong  excitement.  He  is  at  her  villa, 
and  she  says — perhaps  with  some  truth — that  Carlo  would 


A  FRESH  ENTANGLEMENT.  383 

in  several  ways  lose  his  influence  by  liis  immediate  marriage 
with  you.  The  reason  must  have  weight ;  otherwise  he 
would  fulfil  his  mother's  princi]ial  request,  and  be  at  the 
bidding  of  his  own  desire.  There;  I  hope  I  have  spoken 
plainly." 

Agostino  puffed  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  conclusion  of  his 
task. 

Vittoria  had  been  too  strenuously  engaged  in  defending 
the  steadiness  of  her  own  eyes  to  notice  the  shadow  of  an 
assumption  of  frankness  in  his. 

She  said  that  she  understood. 

She  got  away  to  her  room  like  an  insect  carrying  a  load 
thrice  its  own  size.  All  that  she  could  really  gather  from 
Agostino's  words  was,  that  she  felt  herself  rocking  in  a 
tower,  and  that  Violetta  d'Isorella  was  beautiful.  She  had 
striven  hard  to  listen  to  him  with  her  wits  alone,  and  her 
sensations  subsequently  revenged  themselves  in  this  fashion. 
The  tower  rocked  and  struck  a  bell  that  she  discovered  to 
be  her  betraying  voice  uttering  cries  of  pain.  She  was  for 
hours  incapable  of  meeting  Agostino  again.  His  delicate 
intuition  took  the  harshness  off  the  meeting.  He  led  her 
even  to  examine  her  state  of  mind,  and  to  discern  the  fancies 
from  the  feelings  by  which  she  was  agitated.  He  said 
shrewdly  and  bluntly,  "  You  can  master  pain,  but  not  doubt. 
If  you  show  a  sign  of  unhappiness,  remember  that  I  shall 
know  you  doubt  both  what  I  have  told  you,  and  Carlo  as 
well." 

Vittoria  fenced :  "  But  is  there  such  a  thing  as  hap- 
piness ?" 

"  I  should  imagine  so,"  said  Agostino,  touching  her  cheek, 
*'  and  slipperiness  likewise.  There's  patience  at  any  rate  ; 
only  you  must  dig  for  it.  You  arrive  at  nothing,  but  the 
eternal  digging  constitutes  the  object  gained.  I  recollect 
when  I  was  a  raw  lad,  full  of  ambition,  in  love,  and  without 
a  franc  in  my  pockets,  one  night  in  Paris,  I  found  myself 
looking  up  at  a  street  lamp ;  there  was  a  moth  in  it.  He 
couldn't  get  out,  so  he  had  very  little  to  trouble  his  con- 
science. I  think  he  was  near  happiness  :  he  ought  to  have 
been  happy.  My  luck  was  not  so  good,  or  you  wouldn't  see 
me  still  alive,  my  dear." 

Vittoria  sighed  for  a  plainer  speaker. 


384  VITTORIA. 

CHAPTER  XXXYII. 

ON  LAGO  MAGGIOEE. 

Carlo's  hours  were  passed  chiefly  across  the  lake,  in  the 
Piedmontese  valleys.  When  at  Pallanza  he  was  restless, 
and  he  shunned  the  two  or  three  minutes  of  privacy  with  his 
betrothed  which  the  rigorous  Italian  laws  besetting  courtship 
might  have  allowed  him  to  take.  He  had  perpetually  the 
look  of  a  man  starting  from  wine.  It  was  evident  that  he 
and  Countess  d'Isorella  continued  to  hold  close  communi- 
cation, for  she  came  regularly  to  the  villa  to  meet  him. 
On  these  occasions  Countess  Ammiani  accorded  her  one 
ceremonious  interview,  and  straightway  locked  herself  in 
her  room.  Violetta's  grace  of  ease  and  vivacity  soared  too 
high  to  be  subject  to  any  hostile  judgement  of  her  character. 
She  seemed  to  rely  entirely  on  the  force  of  her  beauty,  and 
to  care  little  for  those  who  did  not  acknowledge  it.  She 
accepted  public  compliments  quite  royally,  nor  was  Agos- 
tino  backward  in  offering  them.  "  And  you  have  a  voice, 
you  know,"  he  sometimes  said  aside  to  Vittoria ;  but  she 
had  forgotten  how  easily  she  could  swallow  great  praise  of 
her  voice  ;  she  had  almost  forgotten  her  voice.  Her  delight 
was  to  hang  her  head  above  inverted  mountains  in  the  lake, 
and  dream  that  she  was  just  something  better  than  the 
poorest  of  human  creatm^es.  She  could  not  avoid  putting 
her  mind  in  competition  with  this  brilliant  woman's,  and 
feeling  eclipsed ;  and  her  weakness  became  pitiable.  But 
Countess  d'Isorella  mentioned  once  that  Pericles  was  at  the 
Villa  Ricciardi,  projecting  magnificent  operatic  entertain- 
ments. The  reviving  of  a  passion  to  sing  possessed  Vit- 
toria like  a  thirst  for  freedom,  and  instantly  confused  all 
the  reflected  images  within  her,  as  the  fury  of  a  sudden  wind 
from  the  high  Alps  scourges  the  glassy  surface  of  the  lake. 
She  begged  Countess  Ammiani's  permission  that  she  might 
propose  to  Pericles  to  sing  in  his  private  operatic  company, 
in  any  part,  at  the  shortest  notice. 

"  You  wish  to  leave  me  ?"  said  the  countess,  and  resolutely 
conceived  it. 

Speaking  to  her  son  on  this  subject,  she  thought  it 
necessaxy  to  make  some  excuse  for  a  singer's  instinct,  who 


ON  LAGO  MAGGIOEE.  385 

really  did  not  live  save  on  the  stage.  Itamused  Carlo ;  he  knew 
when  his  mother  was  really  anpTy  with  persons  she  tried  to 
shield  from  the  anger  of  others  ;  and  her  not  seeing  the 
wrong:  on  his  side  in  his  behaviour  to  his  betrothed  was 
laus:hable.  Nevertheless  she  had  divined  the  case  more 
correctly  than  he :  the  lover  was  hurt.  After  what  he  had 
endured,  he  supposed,  with  all  his  forgiveness,  that  he  had 
an  illimitable  claim  upon  his  bride's  patience.  He  told  his 
mother  to  speak  to  her  openly. 

"  Why  not  you,  my  Carlo  ?  "  said  the  countess. 

"  Because,  mother,  if  I  speak  to  her,  I  shall  end  by  throw- 
ing out  my  arms  and  calling  for  the  priest." 

"  I  would  clap  hands  to  that." 

"  AVe  will  see ;  it  may  be  soon  or  late,  but  it  can't  be 
now." 

"  How  much  am  I  to  tell  her,  Carlo  ?  ** 

"  Enough  to  keep  her  from  fretting." 

The  countess  then  asked  herself  how  much  she  knew. 
Her  habit  of  receiving  her  son's  word  and  will  as  supreme 
kept  her  ignorant  of  anything  beyond  the  outline  of  his 
plans ;  and  being  told  to  speak  openly  of  them  to  another, 
she  discovered  that  her  acquiescing  imagination  supplied 
the  chief  part  of  her  knowledge.  She  was  ashamed  also  to 
have  it  thought,  even  by  Carlo,  that  she  had  not  gathered 
every  detail  of  his  occupation,  so  that  she  could  not  argue 
against  him,  and  had  to  submit  to  see  her  dearest  wishes 
lightly  swept  aside. 

"  I  beg  you  to  tell  me  what  you  think  of  Countess 
d'Isorella ;  not  the  afterthought,"  she  said  to  Vittoria. 

"  She  is  beautiful,  dear  Countess  Ammiani." 

"  Call  me  mother  now  and  then.  Yes  :  she  is  beautiful. 
She  has  a  bad  name." 

"  Envy  must  have  given  it,  I  think." 

"  Of  course  she  provokes  envy.  But  I  say  that  her  name 
is  bad,  as  envy  could  not  make  it.  She  is  a  woman  who  goes 
on  missions,  and  carries  a  husband  into  society  like  a  pass- 
port.    You  have  only  thought  of  lier  beauty  H  " 

"  I  can  see  nothing  else,"  said  Vittoria,  whose  torture  at 
the  sight  of  the  beauty  was  appeased  by  her  disingenuous 
pleading  on  its  behalf, 

*'  In  my  time  Beauty  was  a  sinner,"  the  countess  resumed. 
**  My  confessor  has  filled  my  ears  with  warnings  that  it  is  a 

2c 


386  VITTOKIA. 

net  to  the  soul,  a  "weapon  for  devils.  May  tlie  saints  of 
Paradise  make  bare  the  beauty  of  this  woman.  She  has 
persuaded  Carlo  that  she  is  serving'  the  country.  You  have 
let  him  lie  here  alone  in  a  fruitless  bed,  silly  girl.  He 
stayed  for  you  while  his  comrades  called  him  to  Vercelli, 
where  they  are  assembled.  The  man  whom  he  salutes  as 
his  Chief  gave  him  word  to  go  there.  They  are  bound  for 
Rome.  Ah  me !  Rome  is  a  great  name,  but  Lombardy  is 
Carlo's  natal  home,  and  Lombardy  bleeds.  You  were 
absent — how  long  you  were  absent !  If  you  could  know  the 
heaviness  of  those  days  of  his  waiting  for  you.  And  it 
was  I  who  kept  him  here !  I  must  have  omitted  a  prayer, 
for  he  would  have  been  at  Vercelli  now  with  Luciano  and 
Emilio,  and  you  might  have  gone  to  him  ;  but  he  met  this 
woman,  who  has  convinced  him  that  Piedmont  will  make  a 
Winter  march,  and  that  his  marriage  must  be  delayed." 
The  countess  raised  her  face  and  drooped  her  hands  from 
the  wrists,  exclaiming,  "If  I  have  lately  omitted  one  prayer, 
enlighten  me,  blessed  heaven  !  I  am  blind  ;  I  cannot  see  for 
my  son  ;  I  am  quite  blind.  I  do  not  love  the  woman  ;  there- 
fore I  doubt  myself.  You,  my  daughter,  tell  me  your 
thought  of  her,  tell  me  what  you  think.  Young  eyes 
observe  ;  young  heads  are  sometimes  shrewd  in  guessing." 

Vittoria  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  will  believe  her  to  be  true, 
if  she  supports  the  king."  It  was  hardly  truthful  speaking 
on  her  part. 

"How  can  Carlo  have  been  persuaded!"  the  countess 
sighed. 

"  By  me  ?"  Vittoria  asked  herself,  and  for  a  moment  she 
was  exulting. 

She  spoke  from  that  emotion  when  it  had  ceased  to  animate 
her. 

"  Carlo  was  angry  with  the  king.  He  echoed  Agostino, 
but  Agostino  does  not  sting  as  he  did,  and  Carlo  cannot 
avoid  seeing  what  the  king  has  sacrificed.  Perhaps  the 
Countess  d'Isorella  has  shown  him  promises  of  fresh  aid  in 
the  king's  handwriting.  Suifering  has  made  Carlo  Alberto 
one  with  the  Republicans,  if  he  had  other  ambitions  once. 
And  Carlo  dedicates  his  blood  to  Lombardy :  he  does  rightly. 
Dear  countess — my  mother  !  I  have  made  him  wait  for  me; 
I  will  be  patient  in  waiting  for  him.  I  know  that  Countess 
d'Isorella  is  intimate  with  the  king.     There  is  a  man  named 


ON  LAGO  MAGGIORE.  387 

Barto  Rizzo,  who  thinks  me  a  giiilty  traitress,  and  she  is 
making  use  of  this  man.  That  must  be  her  reason  for  pro. 
hibiting  the  marriage.  She  cannot  be  false  if  she  is  capable 
of  uniting  extreme  revolutionary  agents  and  the  king  in  one 
plot,  I  think  ;  I  do  not  know."  Vittoria  concluded  her  per- 
fect expi-ession  of  confidence  with  this  atoning  doubtfulness. 

Countess  Ammiani  obtained  her  consent  that  she  would 
not  quit  her  side. 

After  Violetta  had  gone,  Carlo,  though  he  shunned  secret 
interviews,  addressed  his  betrothed  as  one  who  was  not 
strange  to  his  occupation  and  the  trial  his  heart  was  under- 
going. She  could  not  doubt  that  she  was  beloved,  in  spite  of 
the  colourlessness  and  tonelessness  of  a  love  that  appealed  to 
her  intellect.  He  showed  her  a  letter  he  had  received  from 
Laura,  laughing  at  its  abuse  of  Countess  d'lsorella,  and  the 
sarcasms  levelled  at  himself. 

In  this  letter  Laura  said  that  she  was  engaged  in  some- 
thing  besides  nursing. 

Carlo  pointed  his  finger  to  the  sentence,  and  remarked, 
"  I  must  have  your  promise — a  word  from  you  is  enough — 
that  you  will  not  meddle  with  any  intrigue." 

Vittoria  gave  the  promise,  half  trusting  it  to  bring  the  lost 
bloom  of  their  love  to  him ;  but  he  received  it  as  a  plain 
matter  of  necessity.  Certain  of  his  love,  she  wondered  pain- 
fully that  it  should  continue  so  barren  of  music. 

"*^Why  am  I  to  pledge  myself  that  I  will  be  useless  ?"  she 
asked.  "  You  mean,  my  Carlo,  that  I  am  to  sit  still,  and 
watch,  and  wait." 

He  answered,  "  I  will  tell  you  this  much  :  I  can  be  struck 
vitally  through  you.  In  the  game  I  am  playing,  I  am  able 
to  defend  myself.  If  you  enter  it,  distraction  begins.  Stay 
with  my  mother." 

"  Am  I  to  know  nothing  ?" 

"  Everything — in  good  time." 

*'  I  might — might  I  not  help  you,  my  Carlo  ?" 

*'  Yes  ;  and  nobly  too.     And  I  show  you  the  way." 

Agostino  and  Carlo  made  an  expedition  to  Turin,  Before 
he  went.  Carlo  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Is  it  coming  ?"  she  said,  shutting  her  eyelids  like  a  child 
expecting  the  report  of  firearms. 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  the  closed  eyes.  "  Not  yet;  but  are 
you  growing  timid  P" 

2c2 


388  VITTORIA. 

His  voice  seemed  to  reprove  her. 

She  could  have  told  him  that  keeping  her  in  the  dark 
among  unknown  terrors  ruined  her  courage  ;  but  the  minutes 
wei-e  too  precious,  his  touch  too  sweet.  In  eyes  and  hands 
he  had  become  her  lover  again.  The  blissful  minutes  rolled 
away  like  waves  that  keep  the  sunshine  out  at  sea. 

Her  solitude  in  the  villa  was  beguiled  by  the  arrival  of  the 
Bcore  of  an  operatic  scena,  entitled  "  Hagar,"  by  Rocco  Ricci, 
wdiich  she  fancied  that  either  Carlo  or  her  dear  old  master 
had  sent,  and  she  devoured  it.  She  thought  it  wi'itten  ex- 
pressly for  her.  With  Hagar  she  communed  during  the  long 
hours,  and  sang  herself  on  to  the  verge  of  an  imagined  desert 
beyond  the  mountain-shadowed  lake  and  the  last  view  of  her 
beloved  Motterone.  Hagar's  face  of  tears  in  the  Brera  was 
known  to  her;  and  Hagar  in  her  'Addio'  gave  the  living 
voice  to  that  dumb  one.  Vittoria  revelled  in  the  delicious 
vocal  misery.  She  expanded  with  the  sorrow  of  poor  Hagar, 
whose  tears  refreshed  her,  and  parted  her  from  her  recent 
narrowing  self-consciousness.  The  great  green  mountain 
fronted  her  like  a  living  presence.  Motterone  supplied  the 
place  of  the  robust  and  venerable  patriarch,  whom  she 
reproached,  and  worshipped,  but  with  a  fathomless  burden- 
some sense  of  cruel  injustice,  deeper  than  the  tears  or  the 
voice  which  spoke  of  it :  a  feeling  of  subjected  love  that  was 
like  a  mother's  giving  suck  to  a  detested  child.  Countess 
Ammiani  saw  the  abrupt  alteration  of  her  step  and  look  with 
a  dim  surprise.  "  What  do  you  conceal  from  me  ?"  she 
asked,  and  supplied  the  answer  by  charitably  attributing  it 
to  news  that  the  signora  Piaveni  was  coming. 

When  Laura  came,  the  countess  thanked  her,  saying — "  I 
am  a  wretched  companion  for  this  boiling  head." 

Laura  soon  proved  to  her  that  she  had  been  the  best,  for 
after  very  few  hours  Vittoria  was  looking  like  the  Hagar  on 
the  canvas. 

A  woman  such  as  Violetta  d'Isorella  was  of  the  sort  from 
which  Laura  shrank  with  all  her  feminine  power  of  loathing; 
but  she  spoke  of  her  with  some  eifort  at  personal  tolerance 
until  she  heard  of  Violetta's  stipulation  for  the  deferring  of 
Carlo's  marriage,  and  contrived  to  guess  that  Carlo  was 
reserved  and  unfamiliar  with  his  betrothed.  Then  she  cried 
out,  "  Fool  that  he  is !  Is  it  ever  possible  to  come  to  the 
end  of  the  folly  of  men  ?     She  has  inflamed  his  vanity.    She 


ON  LAGO  MAGGIORE.  3S0 

met  him  wlien  joii  were  holding  him  waiting",  and  no  donbt 
she  commenced  with  lamentations  over  the  country,  followed 
by  a  sigh,  a  fixed  look,  a  cheerful  air,  and  the  assurance  to 
him  that  she  knew  it — uttered  as  if  through  the  keyhole  of 
the  royal  cabinet — she  knew  that  Sardinia  would  break  tho 
Salasco  armistice  in  a  month  : — if  only,  if  the  king  could  be 
sure  of  support  from  the  youth  of  Lombardy." 

"  Do  you  suspect  the  unhappy  king  ?"  Vittoria  inter- 
posed. 

"  Grasp  your  colours  tight,"  said  Laura,  nodding  sarcastic 
approbation  of  such  tidelity,  and  smiling  slightly.  "  There 
has  been  no  mention  of  the  king.  Countess  d'Isorella  is  a 
spy  and  a  tool  of  the  Jesuits,  taking  pay  from  all  parties — 
Austrian  as  well,  I  would  swear.  Their  object  is  to  paralyze 
the  march  on  Rome,  and  she  has  won  Carlo  for  them.  I  ard 
told  that  Barto  Rizzo  is  another  of  her  conquests.  Thus  she 
has  a  madman  and  a  fool,  and  what  may  not  be  done  with  a 
madman  and  a  fool  ?  However,  I  have  set  a  watch  on  her. 
She  must  have  inflamed  Carlo's  vanity.  He  has  it,  just  as 
they  all  have.  There's  trickery  :  I  would  rather  behold  the 
boy  charging  at  the  head  of  a  column  than  putting  faith  in 
this  base  creature.  She  must  have  simulated,  well,"  Laura 
■went  on  talking  to  herself. 

"  What  trickery  ?"  said  Vittoria. 

"  He  was  in  love  with  the  woman  when  he  was  a  lad," 
Laura  replied,  and  pertinently  to  Vittoria's  feelings.  This 
threw  the  moist  shade  across  her  features. 

Beppo  in  Turin  and  Luigi  on  the  lake  were  the  watch  set 
on  Countess  d'Isorella ;  they  were  useless  save  to  fortify 
Laura's  suspicions.  The  Duchess  of  Graatli  wrote  mere 
gossip  from  Milan.  She  mentioned  that  Anna  of  Lenken- 
stein  had  visited  with  her  the  tomb  of  her  brother  Count 
Paul  at  Bologna,  and  had  returned  in  double  mourning ;  and 
that  Madame  Sedley — "  the  sister  of  our  poor  ruined  Pier- 
son  " — had  obtained  grace,  for  herself  at  least,  from  Anna, 
by  casting  herself  at  Anna's  feet,  and  that  they  were  now 
friends. 

Vittoria  felt  ashamed  of  Adela. 

When  Cai-lo  returned,  the  signora  attacked  him  boldly 
with  all  her  weapons ;  reproached  him ;  said,  "  Would  my 
husband  have  treated  me  in  such  a  manner  ?"  Carlo  twisted 
his  moustache  and  stroked  his  young  beard  for  patience. 


390  VITTORIA^ 

They  passed  from  room  to  balcony  and  terrace,  and  Laura 
brought  him  back  into  company  without  cessation  of  her  fire 
of  questions  and  sarcasms,  saying,  "  No,  no  ;  we  will  speak 
of  these  things  publicly."  She  appealed  alternately  to 
Agostino,  Vittoria,  and  Countess  Ammiani  for  support,  and 
as  she  certainly  spoke  sense,  Carlo  was  reduced  to  gloom 
and  silence.  Laura  then  paused.  "  Surely  you  have  pun- 
ished your  bride  enough  ?"  she  said ;  and  more  softly, 
"  Brother  of  ray  Giacomo !  you  are  under  an  evil  spell." 

Carlo  started  up  in  anger.  Bending  to  Vittoria,  he  offered 
her  his  hand  to  lead  her  out.     They  went  together. 

"  A  good  sign,"  said  the  countess. 

"  A  bad  sign  !"  Laura  sighed.  "  If  he  had  taken  me  out 
for  explanation !  But  tell  me,  my  Agostino,  are  you  the 
woman's  dupe  ?" 

"  I  have  been,"  Agostino  admitted  frankly. 

"  You  did  really  put  faith  in  her  ?" 

"  She  condescends  to  be  so  excessively  charming." 

"  You  could  not  advance  a  better  reason." 

"  It  is  one  of  our  best ;  perhaps  our  very  best,  where  your 
sex  is  concerned,  signora." 

"  You  are  her  dupe  no  more  ?" 

"  No  more.     Oh,  dear  no  !" 

"  You  understand  her  now,  do  you  ?" 

"  For  the  very  reason,  signora,  that  T  have  been  her  dupe. 
That  is  I  am  beginning  to  understand  her.  I  am  not  yet  in 
possession  of  the  key." 

"Not  yet  in  possession!"  said  Laura  contemptuously; 
*'  but,  never  mind.     Now  for  Carlo." 

"  Now  for  Carlo.  He  declares  that  he  never  has  been 
deceived,  by  her." 

"  He  is  perilously  vain,"  sighed  the  signora. 

"  Seriously  " — Agostino  drew  out  the  length  of  his  beard 
— "  I  do  not  suppose  that  he  has  been — boys,  you  know,  are 
so  acute.  He  fancies  he  can  make  her  of  service,  and  he 
shows  some  skill." 

"  The  Sivill  of  a  fish  to  get  into  the  net !" 

"  My  dearesr  signora,  you  do  not  allow  for  the  times.  I 
remember  " — Agostino  peered  upward  through  his  eyelashes 
in  a  way  that  he  had — "  I  remember  seeing  in  a  meadow  a 
gossamer  running  away  with  a  spider-thread.  It  was  against 
all  calculation.     But,  observe  :  thei-e  were  exterior  agencies 


ON  LAGO  MAGGIORE.  391 

at  work :  a  stout  wind  blew.  The  ordinary  recfconin<if  is 
based  on  calms.  Without  the  operation  of  disturbing  ele- 
ments, the  spider-thread  would  have  gently  detained  the 
gossamer." 

"  Is  that  meant  for  my  son  ?"  Countess  Ammiani  asked 
slowly,  with  incredulous  emphasis. 

Agostiuo  and  Laura,  laughing  in  their  hearts  at  the 
mother's  mysterious  veneration  for  Carlo,  had  to  explain 
that  '  gossamer '  was  a  poetic,  generic  term,  to  embrace  the 
lighter  qualities  of  masculine  youth. 

A  woman's  tigure  passed  swiftly  by  the  window,  which  led 
Laura  to  suppose  that  the  couple  outside  had  parted.  She 
i-an  forth,  calling  to  one  of  them,  but  they  came  hand  in 
hand,  declaring  that  they  had  seen  neither  woman  nor  man. 
"  And  I  am  happy,"  Vittoria  whispered.  She  looked  happy, 
pale  though  she  was. 

"  It  is  only  my  dreadful  longing  for  rest  which  makes  me 
pale,"  she  said  to  Laura,  when  they  wore  alone.  "  Carlo  has 
proved  to  me  that  he  is  wiser  than  I  am." 

"  A  proof  that  you  love  Carlo,  perhaps,"  Laura  rejoined. 

*'  Dearest,  he  speaks  more  gently  of  the  king." 

"  It  may  be  cunning,  or  it  may  be  carelessness." 

"  Will  nothing  satisfy  you,  wilful  sceptic  ?  He  is  quite 
alive  to  the  Countess  d'Isorella's  character.  He  told  me  how 
she  dazzled  him  once." 

"  Not  how  she  has  entangled  him  now  ?" 

"  It  is  not  true.  He  told  me  what  I  should  like  to  dream 
over  without  talking  any  more  to  anybody.  Ah,  what  a 
delight !  to  have  known  him,  as  you  did,  when  he  was  a  boy. 
Can  one  who  knew  him  then  mean  harm  to  him  ?  I  am  not 
capable  of  imagining  it.  No  ;  he  will  not  abandon  poor 
broken  Lombardy,  and  he  is  right ;  and  it  is  my  duty  to  sib 
and  wait.  No  shadow  shall  come  between  us.  He  has  said 
it,  and  I  have  said  it.  We  have  but  one  thing  to  fear,  which 
is  contemptible  to  fear;  so  I  am  at  peace." 

"  Love-sick,"  was  Laura's  mental  comment.  Yet  when 
Carlo  ex[)laincd  his  position  to  her  next  day,  she  was  milder 
in  her  condemnation  of  him,  and  even  admitted  that  a  man 
must  be  guided  by  such  brains  as  he  possesses.  He  had 
conceived  that  his  mother  had  a  right  to  claim  one  month 
from  him  at  the  close  of  the  war;  he  said  this  reddening 
Laura  nodded.     He  confessed  that  he  was  irritated  when  bo 


392  VITT0T7IA. 

met  the  Connfess  d'lsorella,  with  whom,  to  his  astonishment, 
he  found  Barto  Rizzo.  She  had  picked  him  up,  weak  from 
a  pai'oxysm,  on  the  high  road  to  Milan.  "  And  she  tamed 
the  brute,"  said  Carlo,  in  admiration  of  her  ability;  "she 
saw  that  he  was  plot-mad,  and  she  set  him  at  work  on  a 
stupendous  plot ;  agents  running  nowhere,  and  scribblings 
concentering  in  her  work-basket.  You  smile  at  me,  as  if  I 
were  a  similar  patient,  signora.  But  I  am  my  own  agent. 
I  have  personally  seen  all  my  men  in  Turin  and  elsewhere. 
Violetta  has  not  one  grain  of  love  for  her  country ;  but  she 
can  be  made  to  serve  it.  As  for  me,  I  have  gone  too  far  to 
think  of  turning  aside  and  drilling  with  Luciano.  He  may 
yet  be  diverted  from  Rome,  to  strike  another  blow  for  Lom- 
bardy.  The  Chief,  I  know,  has  some  religious  sentiment 
about  Rome.  So  might  I  have ;  it  is  the  Head  of  Italy.  Let 
us  raise  the  body  first.  And  we  have  been  beaten  here. 
Great  Gods  !  we  will  have  another  fight  for  it  on  the  same 
spot,  and  quickly.  Besides,  I  cannot  face  Luciano  and  tell 
him  why  I  was  away  from  him  in  the  dark  hour.  How  can 
I  tell  him  that  I  was  lingering  to  bear  a  bride  to  the  altar  ? 
while  he  and  the  rest — poor  fellows  !  Hard  enough  to  have 
to  mention  it  to  you,  signora!" 

She  understood  his  boyish  sense  of  shame.  ^Making  smooth 
allowances  for  a  feeling  natural  to  his  youth  and  the  circum- 
stances, she  said,  "  I  am  your  sister,  for  you  were  my  hus- 
band's brother-in-arms.  Carlo.  We  two  speak  heart  to  heart : 
I  sometimes  fancy  you  have  that  voice  :  you  hurt  me  with  it 
more  than  you  know  ;  gladden  me  too  !  My  Carlo,  I  wish  to 
hear  why  Countess  d'lsorella  objects  to  your  marriage." 

"  She  does  not  object." 

"  An  answer  that  begins  by  quibbling  is  not  propitious. 
She  opposes  it." 

"  For  this  reason :  you  have  not  forgotten  the  bronze 
butterfly  ?" 

"  I  see  more  clearly,"  said  Laura,  with  a  start. 

"  There  appears  to  be  no  cure  for  the  brute's  mad  suspi- 
cion of  her,"  Carlo  pursued :  "  and  he  is  powerful  among 
the  Milanese.  If  my  darling  takes  my  name,  he  can  damage 
much  of  my  influence,  and — you  know  what  there  is  to  be 
dreaded  from  a  fanatic." 

Laura  nodded,  as  if  in  full  agreement  with  him,  and  said, 
after  meditating  a  minute,  "  What  sort  of  a  lover  is  this  !" 
She  added  a  little  laugh  to  the  singular  interjection. 


ON  LAGO  MAGGIORE.  393 

"  Yes,  I  tave  also  thought  of  a  secret  marriage,"  said 
Carlo,  stung  by  her  penetrating  instinct  so  that  he  was 
enabled  to  read  the  meaning  in  her  mind. 

"  The  best  Avay,  when  you  are  afflicted  by  a  dilemma  of 
such  a  character,  my  Carlo,"  the  signora  looked  at  him,  "  is 
to  take  a  chess-table  and  make  jonv  moves  on  it.  '  King — 
my  duty;'  '  queen — my  passion;'  '  bishop — my  social  obliga- 
tion ;'  '  knight — my  what-you-will  and  my  round-the-corner 
wishes.'  Then,  if  you  find  that  queen  may  be  gratified 
without  endangering  king,  and  so  forth,  why,  you  may 
follow  your  inclinations ;  and  if  not,  not.  My  Carlo,  you 
are  either  enviably  cool,  or  you  are  an  enviable  hypocrite." 

"  The  matter  is  not  quite  so  easily  settled  as  that,"  said 
Carlo. 

On  the  whole,  though  against  her  preconception,  Laura 
thought  him  an  honest  lover,  and  not  the  player  of  a  double 
game.  She  saw  that  Vittoria  should  have  been  with  him  in 
the  critical  hour  of  defeat,  when  his  passions  were  down,  and 
heaven  knows  what  weakness  of  our  common  manhood,  that 
was  partly  pride,  partly  love-craving,  made  his  nature 
waxen  to  every  impression  ;  a  season,  as  Laura  knew,  when 
the  mistress  of  a  loyal  lover  should  not  withhold  herself 
from  him.  A  nature  tender  like  Carlo's,  and  he  bearing  an 
enamoui-ed  heart,  could  not,  as  Luciano  Romara  had  done, 
pass  instantly  from  defeat  to  drill.  And  vain  as  Carlo  was 
(the  vanity  being  most  intricate  and  subtle,  like  a  nervous 
fluid),  he  was  very  open  to  the  belief  that  he  could  diplo- 
matize as  well  as  fight,  and  lead  a  movement  yet  better  than 
follow  it.     Even  so  the  signora  tried  to  read  his  case. 

They  were  all,  excepting  Coimtess  Ammiani  ("  who  will 
never,  I  fear,  do  me  this  honour,"  Violetta  wrote,  and  the 
countess  said,  "  Never,"  and  quoted  a  proverb),  about  to 
pass  three  or  foiu*  days  at  the  villa  of  Countess  d'Isorella. 
Before  they  set  out,  Vittoria  received  a  portentous  envelope 
containing  a  long  scroll,  that  was  headed  "  Your  Crimes," 
and  detailing  a  list  of  her  offences  against  the  country,  from 
the  revelation  of  the  plot  in  her  first  letter  to  Wilfrid,  to 
services  rendered  to  the  enemy  during  the  war,  up  to  the 
departure  of  Charles  Albert  out  of  forsaken  Milan. 

"  B  R."  was  the  undisguised  signature  at  the  end  of  the 
scroll. 

Things  of  this  description  restored  her  old  war-spirit  to 


394  VITTORIA. 

"Vittoria.  She  handed  tlie  scroll  to  Laxira ;  Laura,  in  greai 
alarm,  passed  it  on  to  Carlo.  He  sent  for  Angelo  Guida- 
scarpi  in  haste,  for  Carlo  read  it  as  an  ante-dated  justificatory 
document  to  some  mischievous  design,  and  he  desired  that 
hands  as  sure  as  his  own,  and  yet  more  vigilant  eyes,  should 
keep  watch  over  his  betrothed. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

VIOLETTA  d'iSORELLA. 


The  villa  inhabited  by  Countess  d'Isorella  was  on  tho 
water's  edge,  within  clear  view  of  the  projecting  Villa 
Ricciardi,  in  that  darkly- wooded  region  of  the  lake  which 
leads  up  to  the  Italian-Swiss  canton. 

Violetta  received  here  an  envoy  from  Anna  of  Lenken- 
stein,  direct  out  of  Milan  :  an  English  lady,  calling  herself 
Mrs.  Sedley,  and  a  particular  friend  of  Countess  Anna.  At 
the  first  glance  Violetta  saw  that  her  visitor  had  the  pre- 
tension to  match  her  arts  against  hei  own ;  so,  to  sound  her 
thoroughly,  she  offered  her  the  hospitalities  of  the  villa  for 
a  day  or  more.  The  invitation  was  accepted.  Much  to 
Violetta's  astonishment,  the  lady  betrayed  no  anxiety  to 
state  the  exact  terms  of  her  mission :  she  appeared,  on  the 
contrary,  to  have  an  unbounded  satisfaction  in  the  society 
of  her  hostess,  and  prattled  of  herself  and  Antonio-Pericles, 
and  her  old  affection  for  Vittoria,  with  the  wileiest  sim- 
plicity, only  requiring  to  be  assured  at  times  that  she  spoke 
intelligible  Italian  and  exquisite  French.  Violetta  supposed 
her  to  feel  that  she  commanded  the  situation.  Patient  study 
of  this  woman  revealed  to  Violetta  the  amazing  fact  that 
she  was  dealing  with  a  born  bourgeoise,  who,  not  devoid  of 
petty  acuteness,  was  unaffectedly  enjoying  her  noble  small- 
talk,  and  the  prospect  of  a  footing  in  Italian  high  society, 
Violetta  smiled  at  the  comedy  she  had  been  playing  in, 
scarcely  reproaching  herself  for  not  having  imagined  it. 
She  proceeded  to  the  point  of  business  without  further 
delay. 


VIOLETTA  D*ISOEELLA.  395 

Adela  Sedley  had  nothing  but  a  verbal  message  to  deliver. 
The  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein  offered,  on  her  word  of 
honour  as  a  noblewoman,  to  make  over  the  quarter  of  her 
estate  and  patrimony  to  the  Countess  d'Isorella,  if  the  latter 
should  succeed  in  thwarting — something. 

Forced  to  speak  plainly,  Adela  confessed  she  thought  she 
knew  the  nature  of  that  something. 

To  preclude  its  being  named,  Yioletta  then  diverged  from 
the  subject. 

"  We  will  go  round  to  your  friend  the  signor  Antonio. 
Pericles  at  Villa  Ricciardi,"  she  said.  "  You  will  see  that 
he  treats  me  familiarly,  but  he  is  not  a  lover  of  mine.  I 
suspect  your  '  something '  has  something  to  do  with  the 
Jesuits." 

Adela  Sedley  replied  to  the  penultimate  sentence :  "  It 
would  not  surprise  me,  indeed,  to  hear  of  any  number  of 
adorers." 

"  I  have  the  usual  retinue,  possibly,"  said  Violetta. 

"  Dear  countess,  I  could  be  one  of  them  myself !"  Adela 
burst  out  with  tentative  boldness. 

"  Then,  kiss  me." 

And  behold,  they  interchanged  that  unsweet  feminine 
performance. 

Adela's  lips  were  unlocked  by  it. 

"  How  many  would  envy  me,  dear  Countess  d'Isorella!" 

She  really  conceived  that  she  was  driving  into  Violetta's 
heart  by  the  great  high  road  of  feminine  vanity.  Violetta 
permitted  her  to  think  as  she  liked. 

"  Your  countrywomen,  madame,  do  not  make  large  allow- 
ances for  beauty,  I  hear." 

"None  at  all.  But  they  are  so  stiff!  so  frigid!  I  know 
one,  a  Miss  Ford,  now  in  Italy,  who  would  not  let  me  have 
a  male  friend,  and  a  charactei%  in  conjunction." 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  Count  Karl  Lenkenstein  ?" 

Adela  blushingly  acknowledged  it. 

"  The  whisper  goes  that  I  was  once  admired  by  him,"  said 
Violetta. 

"  And  by  Count  Ammiani." 

*'  By  count  ?  by  milord  ?  by  prince  ?  by  king  ?'* 

"By  all  who  have  good  taste." 

"  Was  it  jealousy,  then,  that  made  Countess  Anna  hate 
me?" 


396  VITTORIA. 

"  She  coiaM  not — or  she  cannot  now.*' 

"  Because  I  have  not  taken  possession  of  her  brother." 

"  J  could  not — may  I  say  it  ? — I  could  not  understand  his 
infatuation  until  Countess  Anna  showed  me  the  portrait  of 
Italy's  most  beautiful  living  woman.  She  told  me  to  look 
at  the  last  of  the  Borgia  family." 

Yioletta  laughed  out  clear  music.  "  And  now  you  see 
her?"  ^ 

"  She  said  that  it  had  saved  her  brother's  life.  It  has  a  star 
and  a  scratch  on  the  left  cheek  from  a  dagger.  He  wore 
it  on  his  heart,  and  an  assassin  struck  him  there  :  a  true 
romance.  Countess  Anna  said  to  me  that  it  had  saved  one 
brother,  and  that  it  should  help  to  avenge  the  other.  She 
has  not  spoken  to  me  of  Jesuits." 

"  Nothing  at  all  of  the  Jesuits  ?"  said  Violetta  carelessly. 
"  Perhaps  she  wishes  to  use  my  endeavours  to  get  the 
Salasco  armistice  prolonged,  and  tempts  me,  knowing  I  am 
a  prodigal.  Austria  is  victorious,  you  know,  but  she  wants 
peace.     Is  that  the  case  ?     I  do  not  press  j^ou  to  answer." 

Adela  replied  hesitatingly :  "  Are  you  aware,  countess, 
whether  there  is  any  truth  in  the  report  that  Countess  Lena 
has  a  passion  for  Count  Ammiani  ?" 

"  Ah,  then,"  said  Violetta,  "  Countess  Lena's  sister  would 
lia.turally  wish  to  prevent  his  contemplated  marriage  !  We 
may  have  read  the  riddle  at  last.  Are  you  discreet  ?  If 
you  are,  you  will  let  it  be  known  that  I  had  the  honour  of 
becoming  intimate  with  you  in  Turin — say,  at  the  Court. 
We  shall  meet  frequently  there  during  winter,  I  trust,  if 
you  care  to  make  a  comparison  of  the  Italian  with  the 
Austrian  and  the  English  nobility." 

An  eloquent  "  Oh  !"  escaped  from  Adela's  bosom.  She 
had  certainly  not  expected  to  win  her  way  with  this 
estimable  Italian  titled  lady  thus  rapidly.  Violetta  had 
managed  her  so  well  that  she  was  no  longer  sure  whether 
she  did  know  the  exact  nature  of  her  mission,  the  words  of 
which  she  had  faithfully  transmitted  as  having  been  alone 
confided  to  her.  It  was  with  chagrin  that  she  saw  Pericles 
put  his  forefinger  on  a  salient  dimple  of  the  countess's 
cheek  when  he  welcomed  them.  He  puffed  and  blew  like 
one  working  simultaneously  at  bugle  and  big  drum  on  hear- 
ing an  allusion  to  Vittoria.  The  mention  of  the  name  of 
that    abominable    traitress    was   interdicted   at  Villa   Ric- 


viOLETTA  d'isorella.  397 

ciardi,  he  said ;  she  had  drao-ged  him  at  two  armies'  tails  to 
find  his  rio'ht  senses  at  last :  Pericles  was  cured  of  his 
passion  for  her  at  last.  He  had  been  mad,  but  he  was 
cured — and  so  forth,  in  the  old  strain.  His  preparations 
for  a  private  operatic  performance  diverted  him  from  these 
fierce  incriminations,  and  he  tripped  busily  from  spot  to 
spot,  conducting  the  ladies  over  the  tumbled  lower  floors  of 
the  spacious  villa,  and  calling  their  admii-ation  on  the 
desolation  of  the  scene.  Then  they  went  up  to  the  maestro's 
room.  Pericles  became  deeply  considerate  for  the  master's 
privacy.  "  He  is  my  slave  ;  the  man  has  ruined  himself 
for  la  Vittoria  ;  but  I  respect  the  impersonation  of  art,"  he 
said  under  his  breath  to  the  ladies  as  they  stood  at  the 
door;  "  hark  !"  The  piano  was  touched,  and  the  voice  of 
Irma  di  Karski  broke  out  in  a  shrill  crescendo.  Rocco 
liicci  within  gave  tongue  to  the  vehement  damnatory  dance 
of  Pericles  outside.  Rocco  struck  his  piano  again  encourag- 
ingly for  a  second  attempt,  but  Irma  was  sobbing.  She 
was  heard  to  say :  "  This  is  the  fifteenth  time  you  have 
pulled  me  down  in  one  morning.  You  hate  me ;  you  do  ; 
you  hate  me."  Rocco  ran  his  fingers  across  the  keys,  and 
again  struck  the  octave  for  Irma.  Pericles  wiped  his  fore- 
head, when,  impenitent  and  unteachable,  she  took  the  notes 
in  the  manner  of  a  cock.  He  thumped  at  the  door  violently 
and  entered. 

"  Excellent !  horrid  !  brava  !  abominable  !  beautiful !  My 
Irma,  you  have  reached  the  skies.  You  ascend  like  a  fire- 
work, and  crown  yourself  at  the  top.  No  more  to-day  ;  but 
descend  at  your  leisure,  my  dear,  and  we  will  try  to  mount 
again  by-and-by,  and  not  so  fast,  if  you  please.  Ha  !  your 
voice  is  a  racehorse.  You  will  learn  to  ride  him  with 
temper  and  judgement,  and  you  will  go.  Not  so,  my  Rocco? 
Irma,  you  want  repose,  my  dear.  One  thing  I  guarantee  to 
you — you  will  please  the  public.  It  is  a  minor  thing  that 
you  should  please  me." 

Countess  d'Isorella  led  Irma  away,  and  had  to  bear  with 
many  fits  of  weeping,  and  to  assent  to  the  force  of  all  the 
charges  of  vindictive  conspiracy  and  inveterate  malice  with 
which  the  jealous  creature  assailed  Vittoria's  name.  The 
countess  then  claimed  her  ear  for  half-a-minnte. 

"  Have  you  had  any  news  of  Countess  Anna  lately  ?" 

Irma  had  not ;  she  admitted  it  despondently.     "  There  is 


398  VITTORIA. 

snch  a  vile  conspiraoy  acrainst  me  in  Italy — and  Italy  is  a 
poor  singer's  fame— that  1  should  be  tempted  to  do  any- 
thing. And  I  detest  la  Yittoria.  She  has  such  a  hold  ob 
this  Antonio-Pericles,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  hurt  her,  unless 
I  meet  her  and  fly  at  her  throat." 

"You  naturally  detest  her,"  said  the  countess.  "Repeat 
Countess  Anna's  proposition  to  you." 

'  It  was  insulting — she  oiTered  me  money." 

"  That  you  should  persuade  me  to  assist  you  in  preventing 
la  Vittoria's  marriage  to  Count  Ammiani  ?" 

"  Dear  lady,  you  know  I  did  not  try  to  persuade  you." 

"  You  knew  that  you  would  not  succeed,  my  Irma.  But 
Count  Ammiani  will  not  marry  her;  so  you  will  have  a  right 
to  claim  some  reward.  I  do  not  think  that  la  Vittoria  is 
quite  idle.  Look  out  for  yourself,  my  child.  If  you  take  to 
plotting,  remember  it  is  a  game  of  two." 

"  If  she  thwarts  me  in  one  single  step,  I  will  let  loose 
that  madman  on  her,"  said  Irma,  trembling. 

"  You  mean  the  signor  Antonio- Pericles  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  mean  that  furious  man  I  saw  at  your  villa,  dear 
countess." 

"  Ah  !  Barto  Rizzo.  A  very  furious  man.  He  bellowed 
when  he  heard  her  name,  I  remember.  You  must  not  do  it. 
But,  for  Count  Ammiani's  sake,  I  desire  to  see  his  mam^iage 
postponed,  at  least." 

"  Whei^e  is  she  ?"  Irma  inquired. 

The  countess  shrugged.  "  Even  though  I  knew,  I  could 
not  prudently  tell  you  in  your  present  excited  state." 

She  went  to  Pericles  for  a  loan  of  money.  Pericles 
remarked  that  there  was  not  much  of  it  in  Turin.  "  Cut, 
countess,  you  whirl  the  gold-pieces  like  dust  from  your 
■wheels  ;  and  a  spy,  my  good  soul,  a  lovely  secret  emissary, 
she  will  be  getting  underpaid  if  she  allows  herself  to  want 
money.  There  is  your  beauty  ;  it  is  ripe,  but  it  is  fresh, 
and  it  is  extraordinary.  Yes  ;  there  is  your  beauty."  Before 
she  could  obtain  a  promise  of  the  money,  Violetta  had  to 
submit  to  be  stripped  to  her  character,  which  was  hard ;  but 
on  the  other  hand,  Pericles  exacted  no  interest  on  his  money, 
and  it  was  not  often  that  he  exacted  a  return  of  it  in  coin. 
Under  these  circumstances,  ladies  in  need  of  money  can 
find  it  in  their  hearts  to  pardon  mere  brutality  of  phrase. 
Pericles  promised  to  send  it  to  the  countess  on  one  condi- 


VIOLETTA  d'iSOEELLA.  39  & 

tion ;  which  condition  he  cancelled,  saying'  dejectedly,  '  I 
do  not  care  to  know  where  she  is.     I  will  not  know." 

"  She  has  the  score  of  Hagar,  wherever  she  is,"  said 
Violetta,  "  and  when  she  hears  that  you  have  done  the  scena 
without  her  aid,  you  will  have  stuck  a  dagger  in  her 
bosom." 

"  Not,"  Pericles  cried  in  despair.  "  not  if  she  should  hear 
Irma's  Hagar!  To  the  desert  with  Irma.  It  is  the  place 
for  a  crab-apple.     Bravo,  Abraham  !  you  were  wise." 

Pericles  added  that  Montini  was  hourly  expected,  and  that 
there  was  to  be  a  rehearsal  in  the  evening. 

When  she  had  driven  home,  Vicletta  found  Barto  Rizzo's 
accusatory  paper  laid  on  her  writing-desk.  She  gathered 
the  contents  in  a  careless  glance,  and  walked  into  the  garden 
alone,  to  look  for  Carlo. 

He  was  leaning  on  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace,  near  the 
water-gate,  looking  into  the  deep  clear  lake- water.  Violetta 
placed  herself  beside  him  without  a  greeting. 

"  You  are  watching  fish  for  coolness,  my  Carlo  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  did  not  turn  to  her  face. 

"  You  were  very  angry  when  you  arrived  ?" 

She  waited  for  his  reply. 

"  Why  do  yon  not  speak,  Carlino  ?" 

"  I  am  watching  fish  for  coolness,"  he  said. 

"  Meantime,"  said  Violetta,  "  I  am  scorched," 

He  looked  up,  and  led  her  to  an  arch  of  shade,  where  he 
Bat  quite  silent. 

"  Can  anything  be  more  vexing  than  this  ?"  she  was 
reduced  to  exclaim. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "you  would  like  the  catalogue  to  be 
written  out  for  you  in  a  big  bold  hand,  possibly,  with  a 
terrific  initials  at  the  end  of  the  page." 

"  Carlo,  you  have  done  worse  than  that.  When  I  saw 
you  first  here,  what  crimes  did  you  not  accuse  me  of  ?  what 
names  did  you  not  scatter  on  my  head  ?  and  what  things 
did  I  not  confess  to  ?  I  bore  the  unkindness,  for  you  were 
beaten,  and  you  wanted  a  victim.  And,  my  dear  friend, 
considering  that  I  am  after  all  a  woman,  my  forbearance  has 
5ub.sequently  been  still  greater." 

"  How  ? "  he  asked.  Her  half-pathetic  candour  melted 
him. 

"  You  must  have  a  lively  memory  for  the  uses  of  forget- 


400  VITTOFJA. 

fulness,    Carlo.      When    you    had    scourged  me   well,   you 
thought  it  proper  to  raise  me  up  and  give  me  comfort.     I 
was  wicked  for  serving  the  king,  and  therefore  the  country, 
as  a  spy  ;    but  I  was  to  persevere,  and  cancel  my  iniquities 
by  betraying  those  whom  I  served  to  you.     That  was  your 
instructive  precept.     Have  I  done  it  or  not  ?    Answer,  too — • 
have  I  done  it  for  any  payment  beyond  your  approbation  ? 
I  persuaded  you  to  hope  for  Lombardy,   and  without  any 
vaunting  of  my  own  patriotism.     You  have  seen  and  spoken 
to  the  men  I  directed  you  to  visit.     If  their  heads  master 
yours,  I  shall  be  reprobated  for  it,  I  know  surely  ;  but  I  am 
confident    as    yet    that    you  can  match    them.     In    another 
month  I  expect  to  see  the  king  over  the  Ticino  once  more, 
and  Carlo  in  Brescia  with  his  comrades.     You  try  to  pene- 
trate   my  eyes.      That's  foolish ;     ]    can  make   them  glass. 
Read  me  by  what  I  say  and  what  I  do.      I  do  not  entreat 
you  to  trust  me;  I  merely  beg  that  you  will  trust  your  own 
judgement  of  me  by  what  I  have  helped  you  to  do  hitherto. 
1  ou  and   I,   my  dear  boy,  have  had  some  trifling  together. 
Admit  that  another  woman  would  have  refused  to  surrender 
you  as  I  did  when  your  unruly  Vittoria  was  at  last  induced 
to  come  to  you  from  Milan.     Or,  another  woman  would  have 
had  her  revenge  on  discovering  that  she  had  been  a  puppet 
of  soft  eyes  and  a  lover's  quarrel  with  his  mistress.     Instead 
of  which,  I  let  you  go.     I  am  opposed  to  the  marriage,  it's 
true;  and  you  know  why." 

Carlo  had  listened  to  Violetta,  measuring  the  false  and 
the  true  in  this  recapitulation  of  her  conduct  with  cool 
accuracy  until  she  alluded  to  their  personal  relations. 
Thereat  his  brows  darkened. 

"  We  had  '  some  trifling  together,'  "  he  said,  musingly. 

"  Is  it  going  to  be  denied  in  these  sweeter  days  ?"  Vio- 
letta reddened. 

"  The  phrase  is  elastic.    Suppose  my  bride  were  to  hear  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  addressed  to  your  ears,  Carlo." 

*'  It  cuts  two  ways.  Will  you  tell  me  when  it  was  that  I 
last  had  the  happiness  of  saluting  you,  lip  to  lip  ?" 

"In  Brescia — before  I  had  espoused  an  imbecile— two 
nights  before  my  marriage — near  the  fountain  of  the  Greek 
girl  with  a  pitcher." 

Pride  and  anger  nerved  the  reply.  It  was  uttered  in 
a  rapid  low  breath.     Coming  altogether  unexpectedly,  it 


VIOLETTA  d'iSORELLA.  401 

created  an  intense  momentary  revulsion  of  his  feelings  by 
cunjuring  up  his  boyish  love  iu  a  scene  more  living  than  the 
sunlight. 

He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  mouth.  He  was  Italian  enough, 
though  a  lover,  to  feel  that  she  deserved  more.  She  had 
reddened  deliciously,  and  therewith  hung  a  dewy  rosy 
moisture  on  her  underlids.  Raising  her  eyes,  she  looked 
like  a  cut  orange  to  a  thirsty  lip.  He  kissed  her,  saying, 
"Pardon." 

"Keep  it  secret,  you  mean?"  she  retorted.  "Yes,  I 
pardon  that  wish  of  yours.  I  can  pardon  much  to  my 
beauty." 

She  stood  up  as  majestically  as  she  had  spoken. 

"  You  know,  my  Violetta,  that  I  am.  madly  in  love." 

"  I  have  learnt  it." 

"  You  know  it : — what  else  would  .  .  .  ?  If  I  were  not 
lost  in  love,  could  I  see  you  as  I  do  and  let  Brescia  be  the 
final  chapter?" 

Violetta  sighed.  "I  should  have  preferred  its  being  so 
rather  than  this  superfluous  additional  line  to  announce  an 
end,  like  a  foolish  staff  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff.  You  thought 
that  you  were  saluting  a  leper,  or  a  saint  ?" 

"Neither.  If  ever  we  can  talk  together  again,  as  we  have 
done,"  Carlo  said  gloomily,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  of 
myself." 

"  No,  but  Richelieu  might  have  behaved  ....  Ah !  per- 
haps not  quite  in  the  same  way,"  she  corrected  her  flowing 
apology  for  him.  "  But  then,  he  was  a  Frenchman.  He 
could  be  flighty  without  losing  his  head.  Dear  Italian 
Carlo  !  Yes,  in  the  teeth  of  Barto  Rizzo,  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  country,  marry  her  at  once.  It  will  be  the  best  thing 
for  you ;  really  the  best.  You  want  to  know  from  me  the 
whereabout  of  Barto  Rizzo.  He  may  be  in  the  mountain 
over  Stresa,  or  in  Milan.  He  also  has  thrown  off  my  yoke, 
such  as  it  was  !  I  do  assure  you.  Carlo,  I  have  no  command 
over  him  :  but,  mind,  I  half  doat  on  the  wretch.  No  man 
made  me  desperately  in  love  with  myself  before  he  saw  me, 
when  I  stopped  his  raving  in  the  middle  of  the  road  with 
one  look  of  my  face.  There  was  foam  on  his  beard  and 
round  his  eyes ;  the  poor  wretch  took  out  his  handkerchief, 
and  he  sobbed.  I  don't  know  how  many  luckless  ci'eaturcs 
he  had  killed  on  his  way ;  but  when  I  took  him  into  my  car- 

2d 


402  viTTorjA. 

riage — Icing',  emperor,  orator  on  stilts,  minister  of  police — 
not  one  has  flattered  me  as  he  did,  by  just  gazing  at  me. 
Ueauty  can  do  as  much  as  music,  my  Carlo." 

Carlo  thanked  heaven  that  Violetta  had  no  passion  in  her 
natui'e.  She  had  none :  merely  a  leading  toward  evil,  a 
light  sense  of  shame,  a  desire  for  money,  and  in  her  heai't  a 
contempt  for  the  principles  she  did  not  possess,  but  which, 
apart  fi-om  the  intervention  of  other  influences,  could  occa- 
sionally sway  her  actions.  Friendship,  or  rather  the  shadowy 
recovery  of  a  past  attachment  that  had  been  more  than 
friendship,  inclined  her  now  and  then  to  serve  a  master  who 
failed  distinctly  to  represent  her  interests  ;  and  when  she 
met  Carlo  after  the  close  of  the  war,  she  had  really  set  to 
work  in  hearty  kindliness  to  rescue  him  from  what  she 
termed  "  shipv-'reck  with  that  disastrous  Republican  crew." 
He  had  obtained  greater  ascendency  over  her  than  she  liked ; 
yet  she  would  have  forgiven  it,  as  well  as  her  consequent 
slight  deviation  from  direct  allegiance  to  her  masters  in 
various  cities,  but  for  Carlo's  commanding  personal  coolness. 
She  who  had  tamed  a  madman  by  her  beauty,  was  out- 
raged, and  not  unnaturally,  by  the  indifference  of  a  former 
lover. 

Later  in  the  day,  Laura  and  Vittoria,  with  Agostino, 
reached  the  villa ;  and  Adela  put  her  lips  to  Vittoria's  ear, 
whispering :  "  Naughty !  when  are  you  to  lose  your  liberty 
to  turn  men's  heads  ?"  and  then  she  heaved  a  sigh  with 
Wilfrid's  name.  She  had  formed  the  acquaintance  of 
Countess  d'Isorella  in  Turin,  she  said,  and  satisfactorily 
repeated  her  lesson,  but  with  a  blush.  She  was  little  more 
than  a  shade  to  Vittoria,  who  wondered  what  she  had  to  live 
for.  After  the  early  evening  dinner,  when  sunlight  and  the 
colours  of  the  sun  were  beyond  the  western  mountains,  they 
pushed  out  on  the  lake.  A  moon  was  overhead,  seeming  to 
drop  lower  on  them  as  she  filled  with  light. 

Agostino  and  Vittoria  fell  upon  their  theme  of  discord,  as 
usual — the  King  of  Sardinia. 

"  We  near  the  vesper  hour,  my  daughter,"  said  Agostino; 
"  you  would  provoke  me  to  argumentation  in  heaven  itself. 
I  am  for  peace.  I  remember  looking  down  on  two  cats  with 
arched  backs  in  the  solitary  arena  of  the  Verona  amphi- 
theatre. We  men,  mv  Carlo,  will  not,  in  the  decay  of  time, 
60  conduct  ourselves.' 


VIOLETTA  d'iSOEELLA.  403 

Vittoria  looked  on  Laura  and  thought  of  the  cannon- 
sounding:  houi-s,  whose  echoes  rolled  over  their  slaughtered 
hope.  The  sun  fell,  the  moon  shone,  and  the  sun  would  rise 
again,  but  Italy  lay  face  to  earth.  They  had  seen  her 
together  before  the  enemy.  That  recollection  was  a  joy  that 
stood,  though  the  winds  beat  at  it,  and  the  torrents.  She 
loved  her  friend's  worn  eyelids  and  softly-shut  mouth  ; — 
the  after-glow  of  battle  seemed  on  them;  the  silence  of  the 
field  of  carnage  under  heaven ; — and  the  patient  turning  of 
Laura's  eyes  this  way  and  that  to  speakers  upon  common 
things,  covered  the  despair  of  her  heart  as  with  a  soldier's 
cloak. 

Laura  met  the  tender  study  of  Vittoria's  look,  and  smiled. 

They  neared  the  villa  Ricciardi,  and  heard  singing.  The 
villa  was  lighted  profusely,  so  that  it  made  a  little  mock- 
sunset  on  the  lake. 

"Irma!"  said  Vittoria,  astonished  at  the  ring  of  a  well- 
known  voice  that  shot  up  in  firework  fashion,  as  Pericles  had 
said  of  it.  Incredulous,  she  listened  till  she  was  sure ;  and 
then  glanced  hurried  questions  at  all  eyes.  Violetta  laughed, 
saying  "  You  have  the  score  of  Rocco  Ricci's  Hagar." 

The  boat  drew  under  the  blazing  windows,  and  half  guess- 
ing, half  hearing,  Vittoria  understood  that  Pericles  was  giving 
an  entertainment  here,  and  had  abjured  her.  She  was  not 
insensible  to  the  slight.  This  feeling,  joined  to  her  long 
unsatisfied  craving  to  sing,  led  her  to  be  intolerant  of  Irma's 
style,  and  visibly  vexed  her. 

Violetta  whispered :  "  He  declares  that  your  voice  is 
cracked  :  show  him  !  Burst  out  with  the  '  Addio  '  of  Hagar. 
May  she  not.  Carlo  ?  Don't  you  permit  the  poor  soul  to 
sing  ?     She  cannot  contain  herself." 

Carlo,  Adela,  Agostino,  and  Violetta  prompted  her,  and, 
catching  a  pause  in  the  villa,  she  sang  the  opening  notes  of 
Hagar's  "  Addio  "  with  her  old  glorious  fulness  of  tone  and 
perfect  utterance. 

The  first  who  called  her  Tiame  was  Rocco  Ricci,  but  Peri- 
cles was  the  first  to  i-ush  out  and  hang  over  the  boat.  "  Witch ! 
traitress !  infernal  ghost !  heart  of  ice !"  and  in  English 
"humbug!"  and  in  French  "  coquine  !"  : — these  were  a  few 
of  the  titles  he  poured  on  her.  Rocco  Ricci  and  Montini 
kissed  hands  to  her,  begging  her  to  come  to  them.  She  was 
very  willing  outwardly,  and  in  her  heart  most  eager ;  but 

2d2 


404  VITTORIA. 

Carlo  bade  the  rowers  push  off.  Then  it  was  pitiful  to  hear 
tlie  shout  of  abject  supplication  from  Pericles.  He  implored 
Count  Ammiani's  pardon,  Vittoria's  pardon,  for  telling  her 
what  she  was  ;  and  as  the  boat  drew  farther  away,  he  offered 
her  sums  of  money  to  enter  the  villa  and  sing  the  score  of 
Jfagar ;  sums  of  money  to  every  form  of  assistance.  He 
offered  to  bear  the  blame  of  her  bad  behaviour  to  him,  said 
he  would  forget  it  and  stamp  it  out ;  that  he  would  pay  for 
the  provisioning  of  a  regiment  of  volunteers  for  a  whole 
month  ;  that  he  would  present  her  marriage  trousseau  to 
her — yea,  and  let  her  marry.  "Sandra!  my  dear!  nay  dear!" 
he  cried,  and  stretched  over  the  parapet  speechless,  like  a 
puppet  slain. 

So  sti-ongly  did  she  comprehend  the  sincerity  of  his  passion 
for  her  voice  that  she  could  or  would  see  nothing  extravagant 
in  this  demonstration  which  excited  unrestrained  laughter  in 
every  key  fi'om  her  companions  in  the  boat.  When  the  boat 
was  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  shore,  and  in  full  moon- 
light, she  sang  the  great  "  Addio  "  of  Hagar.  At  the  close 
of  it,  she  had  to  feel  for  her  lover's  hand  blindly.  No  one 
spoke,  either  at  the  Villa  Ricciardi,  or  about  her.  Her  voice 
possessed  the  mountain-shadowed  lake. 

The  rowers  pulled  lustily  home  through  chill  air. 

Luigi  and  Beppo  were  at  the  villa,  both  charged  with  news 
from  Milan.  Beppo  claiming  the  right  to  speak  first,  which 
Luigi  granted  with  a  magnificent  sweep  of  his  hand,  related 
that  Captain  Weisspriess,  of  the  garrison,  had  wounded 
Count  Medole  in  a  duel  severely.  He  brought  a  letter  to 
Vittoria  from  Merthyr,  in  which  Merthyr  urged  her  to 
prevent  Count  Ammiani's  visiting  Milan  for  any  purpose 
whatever,  and  said  that  he  was  coming  to  be  present  at  her 
marriage.  She  was  reading  this  while  Luigi  delivered  his 
burden ;  which  was  that,  in  a  subsequent  duel,  the  slaughter- 
ing captain  had  killed  little  Leone  Rufo,  the  gay  and  gallant 
boy.  Carlo's  comrade,  and  her  friend. 

Luigi  laughed  scornfully  at  his  rival,  and  had  edged  away 
out  of  sight  before  he  could  be  asked  who  had  sent  him. 
Beppo  ignominiously  confessed  that  he  had  not  heard  of  this 
second  duel.  At  midnight  he  was  on  horseback,  bound  for 
Milan,  with  a  challenge  to  the  captain  from  Carlo,  who  had  a 
jealous  fear  that  Luciano  at  Vercelli  might  have  outstripped 
him.     Carlo  requested  the  captain  to  guarantee  him  an  hour's 


VIOLETTA  d'iSOEELLA.  405 

imTnnnitr  in  the  city  on  a  stated  day,  or  to  name  any  spot 
on  the  borders  of  Piedmont  for  the  meeting.  The  challenge 
was  sent  with  Conntess  Ammiani's  approbation  and  Laura's, 
Vittoria  submitted. 

That  done,  Carlo  gave  up  his  heart  to  his  bride.  A  fight 
in  prospect  was  the  hope  of  wholesome  work  after  his  late 
indecision  and  double  play.  They  laughed  at  themselves, 
accused  hotly,  and  humbly  excused  themselves,  praying  for 
mutual  pardon. 

She  had  behaved  badly  in  disobeying  Ms  mandate  from 
Brescia. 

Yes,  but  had  he  not  been  over-imperious  ? 
True  ;  still  she   should  bave  remembered  her  promise  in 
the  Vicentino. 

She  did  indeed ;  but  how  could  she  quit  her  wounded  friend 
Merthyr  ? 

Perhaps  not :  then,  why  had  she  sent  word  to  him  from 
Milan  that  she  Avould  be  at  Pallanza? 

This  question  knocked  at  a  sealed   chamber.      She  was 
silent,  and  Carlo  had  to  brood  over  something  as  well.     He 
gave  her  hints  of  his  foolish  pique,  his   wrath  and  bitter 
baffled  desire  for  her  when,  coming  to  Pallanza,  he  came  to 
an  empty  house.     But  he  could  not  help  her  to  see,  for  he 
did  not  himself  feel,  that    he  had   been  spurred  by    silly 
passions,    pique,  and   wrath,    to  plunge  instantly  into  new 
political  intrigue  ;    and  that  some  of  his   worst  faults  had 
become  mixed  up  with  his  devotion  to  his  country.     Had  he 
taken  Violetta  for  an  ally  in  all  purity  of  heart  ?     The  kiss 
he  had  laid  on  the  woman's  sweet  lips  had  shaken  his  abso- 
lute belief  in  that.      He    tried   to   set   his  brain   travelling 
backward,  in  order  to  contemplate  accurately  the  point  of 
his  original  weakness.      It  being  almost  too  severe  a  task 
for   any  young  head.    Carlo    deemed    it  sufficient  that    he 
should  say — and  this  he  felt— that  he  was  unworthy  of  his 
beloved.     Could  Vittoria  listen  to   such  stuff  ?     She  might 
have  kissed  him  to  stop  the  flow  of  it,  but  kissings  were 
rare  between  them  ;  so  rare  that,  when  they  had  put  mouth 
to  mouth,  a  little  quivering  spire  of  flame,  dim  at  the  base, 
fitood  to  mark  the  spot  in  their  memories.     She  moved  her 
hand,   as    to    throw    aside    such    talk.     Unfretful    in  blood, 
chaste  and  keen,  she  at   least  knew  the  foolishness   of  the 
common  form  of  lovers'  trifling  when  there  is  a  burning  love 


406  VITTOEIA. 

to  keep  under^  and  Carlo  saw  that  she  did,  and  adored  her 
for  this  highest  proof  of  the  passion  of  her  love. 

"  In  three  days  you  will  be  mine,  if  I  do  not  hear  from 
Milan  ?  within  five,  if  I  do  ?"  he  said. 

Vittoria  gave  him  the  whole  beauty  of  her  face  a  divine 
minute,  and  bowed  it  assenting.  Carlo  then  led  her  to  his 
mother,  before  whom  he  embraced  her  for  the  comfort  of  his 
mother's  heart.  They  decided  that  there  should  be  no 
whisper  of  the  marriage  until  the  couple  were  one.  Vittoria 
obtained  the  countess's  permission  to  write  for  Merthyr  to 
attend  her  at  the  altar.  She  had  seen  Weisspriess  fall  in 
combat,  and  she  had  perfect  faith  in  her  lover's  right  hand. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

ANNA  OF  LENKENSTBIN. 


Captain  Weisspriess  replied  to  Carlo  AmmianI  promptly, 
naming  Camerlata  by  Como,  as  the  place  where  he  would 
meet  him. 

He  stated  at  the  end  of  some  temperate  formal  lines,  that 
he  had  given  Count  Ammiani  the  preference  over  half-a- 
dozen  competitors  for  the  honour  of  measuring  swords  with 
him ;  but  that  his  adversary  must  not  expect  him  to  be 
always  ready  to  instruct  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  Lom- 
bardo- Venetian  province  in  the  arts  of  fence ;  and  therefore 
he  begged  to  observe  that  his  encounter  with  Count 
A.mmiani  would  be  the  last  occasion  upon  which  he  should 
hold  himself  bound  to  accept  a  challenge  from  Count 
Ammiani's  countrymen. 

It  was  quite  possible,  the  captain  said,  drawing  a  familiar 
illustration  from  the  gaming-table,  to  break  the  stoutest 
Bank  in  the  world  by  a  perpetual  multiplication  of  your  bets, 
and  he  was  modest  enough  to  remember  that  he  was  but  one 
man  against  some  thousands,  to  contend  with  all ,  of  whom 
would  be  exhausting. 

Consequently  the  captain  desired  Count  Ammiani  to  pro- 
claim to  his  countrymen  that  the  series  of  challeugcs  must 


ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN.  407 

terminate;  and  he  requested  him  to  advertize  the  same  in  a 
Milanese,  a  Turin,  and  a  Neapolitan  journal. 

''  I  am  not  a  butcher,"  he  concluded.  "  The  task  you 
inflict  iipon  me  is  scarcely  bearable.  Call  it  by  what  name 
you  will,  it  is  having  ten  shots  to  one,  wdiich  was  generally 
considered  an  equivalent  to  murder.  My  sword  is  due  to 
you.  Count  Ammiani;  and,  as  I  know  you  to  be  an  honour- 
able nobleman,  I  would  rather  you  were  fighting  in  Venice, 
though  your  cause  is  hopeless,  than  standing  up  to  match 
yourself  against  me.  Let  me  add  that  I  deeply  respect  the 
lady  who  is  engaged  to  be  united  to  you,  and  would  not 
willingly  cross  steel  either  with  her  lover  or  her  hiisband. 
I  shall  be  at  Camerlata  at  the  time  appointed.  If  I  do  not 
find  you  there  I  shall  understand  that  you  have  done  me  the 
honour  to  take  my  humble  advice,  and  have  gone  where 
your  courage  may  at  least  appear  to  have  done  better  service. 
I  shall  sheath  my  sword  and  say  no  more  about  it." 

All  of  this,  save  the  concluding  paragraph,  was  written 
under  the  eyes  of  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein. 

He  carried  it  to  his  quarters,  where  he  appended  the — as 
be  deemed  it — conciliatory  passage :  after  which  he  handed 
it  to  Beppo,  in  a  square  of  the  barracks,  with  a  buon'mano 
that  Beppo  received  bowing,  and  tossed  to  an  old  decorated 
regimental  dog  of  many  wounds  and  a  veteran's  gi-avity. 
For  this  offence  a  Styrian  grenadier  seized  him  by  the 
shoulders,  lifting  him  off  his  feet  and  swinging  him  easily, 
"while  the  dog  arose  from  his  contemplation  of  the  coin  and 
swayed  an  expectant  tail.  The  Styrian  had  dashed  Beppo 
to  earth  before  Weisspriess  could  interpose,  and  the  dog  had 
got  him  by  the  throat.  In  the  struggle  Beppo  tore  off  the 
dog's  medal  for  distinguished  conduct  on  the  field  of  battle. 
He  restored  it  as  soon  as  he  was  free,  and  won  unanimous 
plaudits  from  officers  and  soldiers  for  his  kindly  thoughtful- 
ness  and  the  pretty  manner  with  which  he  dropped  on  one 
knee,  and  assuaged  the  growls,  and  attached  the  medal  to 
the  old  dog's  neck.  Weisspriess  walked  away.  Beppo  then 
challenged  his  Styrian  to  fight.  The  case  was  laid  before  a 
couple  of  sergeants,  who  shook  their  heads  on  hearing  his 
condition  to  be  that  of  a  serving-man.  The  Styrian  was 
ready  to  waive  considerations  of  superiority;  but  the  judges 
pronounced  their  veto.  A  soldier  in  the  Imperial  Jloyal 
Bervice,  though  he  was  merely  a  private  in  the  ranks,  could 


408  VITTORIA. 

not  accept  a  clialleiige  from  civilians  below  the  rank  of 
notary,  secretary,  hotel-  or  inn-keeper,  and  such-like  : 
servants  and  tradesmen  he  must  seek  to  punish  in  some 
other  way ;  and  they  also  had  their  appeal  to  his  command- 
ing officer.  So  went  the  decision  of  the  military  tribunal, 
nntil  the  Styrian,  having  contrived  to  make  Beppo  under- 
stand, by  the  agency  of  a  single  Italian  verb,  that  he  wanted 
a  blow,  Beppo  spun  about  and  delivered  a  stinging  smack  on 
the  Styrian's  cheek ;  which  altered  the  view  of  the  case,  for, 
under  peculiar  circumstances — supposing  that  he  did  not 
choose  to  cut  him  down — a  soldier  might  condescend  to 
challenge  his  civilian  inferiors  :  "'  in  our  regiment,"  said  the 
sergeants,  meaning  that  they  had  relaxed  the  stringency  of 
their  laws. 

Beppo  met  his  Styrian  outside  the  city  walls,  and  laid 
him  flat.  He  declined  to  fight  a  second  ;  but  it  was  repre- 
sented to  him,  by  the  aid  of  an  interpreter,  that  the  officers 
of  the  garrison  were  subjected  to  successive  challenges,  and 
that  the  first  trial  of  his  skill  might  have  been  nothing  finer 
than  luck ;  and  besides,  his  adversary  had  a  right  to  call  a 
champion.  "  We  all  do  it,"  the  soldiers  assured  him.  "  Now 
you're  blood's  up  you're  ready  for  a  dozen  of  us  ;"  which  was 
less  true  of  a  constitution  that  was  quicker  in  expending  its 
heat.  He  stood  out  against  a  young  fellow  almost  as  limber 
as  himself,  much  taller,  and  longer  in  the  reach,  by  whom 
he  was  quickly  disabled  with  cuts  on  thigh  and  head.  See- 
ing this  easy  victory  over  him,  the  soldiers,  previously  quite 
civil,  cursed  him  for  having  got  the  better  of  their  fallen 
comrade,  and  went  off  discussing  how  he  had  done  the  trick, 
leaving  him  to  lie  there.  A  peasant  carried  him  to  a  small 
suburban  inn,  where  he  remained  several  days  oppressed 
horribly  by  a  sense  that  he  had  forgotten  something.  When 
he  recollected  what  it  was,  he  entrusted  the  captain's  letter 
to  his  landlady  ; — a  good  woman,  but  she  chanced  to  have  a 
scamp  of  a  husband,  who  snatched  it  from  her  and  took  it  to 
his  market.  Beppo  supposed  the  letter  to  be  on  its  way  to 
Pallanza,  when  it  was  in  General  Schoneck's  official  desk; 
and  soon  after  the  breath  of  a  scandalous  rumour  began  to 
circulate. 

Captain  Wiesspriess  had  gone  down  to  Camerlata,  accom- 
panied by  a  Colonel  Volpo,  of  an  Austro-Ttalian  regiment, 
and  by  Lieutenant  Jenna.    At  Camerlata  a  spectacled  officer, 


ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN.  409 

Major  Xagen,  joined  them.  "Wiesspriess  was  the  less  pleased 
with  his  company  on  hearing  that  he  had  come  to  witness 
the  meeting,  in  obedience  to  an  express  command  of  a  person 
who  was  interested  in  it.  Jenna  was  the  captain's  fi-iend : 
Volpo  was  seconding  him  for  the  purpose  of  getting  Count 
Ammiani  to  listen  to  reason  from  the  mouth  of  a  country- 
man. There  could  be  no  doubt  in  the  captain's  mind  that 
this  Major  Nagen  was  Countess  Anna's  spy  as  well  as  his 
rival,  and  he  tried  to  be  rid  of  him ;  but  in  addition  to  the 
shortness  of  sight  which  was  Nagen's  plea  for  pushing  his 
thin  transparent  nose  into  every  corner,  he  enjoyed  at  will 
an  intermittent  deafness,  and  could  hear  anything  without 
knowing  of  it.  Brother  officers  said  of  Major  Nagen  that 
he  was  occasionally  equally  senseless  in  the  nose,  which  had 
been  tweaked  without  disturbing  the  repose  of  his  features. 
He  waited  half-an-hour  on  the  ground  after  the  appointed 
time,  and  then  hurried  to  Milan.  Wiesspriess  waited  an 
hour.  Satisfied  that  Count  Ammiani  Avas  not  coming,  he 
exacted  from  Volpo  and  from  Jenna  their  word  of  honour  as 
Austrian  officers  that  they  would  forbear  to  cast  any  slur  on 
the  courage  of  his  adversary,  and  would  be  so  discreet  on 
the  subject  as  to  imply  that  the  duel  was  a  drawn  affair. 
They  pledged  themselves  accordingly.  "  There's  Nagen,  it's 
true,"  said  Weisspriess,  as  a  man  will  say  and  feel  that  he 
has  done  his  best  to  prevent  a  thing  inevitable. 

Milan,  and  some  of  the  journals  of  Milan,  soon  had  Carlo 
Ammiani's  name  up  for  challeng-ing  Weisspriess  and  failing 
to  keep  his  appointment.  It  grew  to  be  discussed  as  a  tre- 
mendous event.  The  captain  received  fifteen  challenges 
within  two  days ;  among  these  a  second  one  from  Luciano 
Romara,  whom  he  was  beginning  to  have  a  strong  desire  to 
encounter.  He  repressed  it,  as  quondam  drunkards  fight  oE 
the  whisper  of  their  lips  for  liquor.  "  No  more  blood,"  was 
his  constant  inward  cry.  He  wanted  peace  ;  but  as  he  also 
wanted  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein  and  her  estates,  it 
may  possibly  be  remarked  of  him  that  what  he  wanted  ho 
did  not  want  to  pay  for. 

At  this  period  Wilfrid  had  resumed  the  Austrian  uniform 
as  a  common  soldier  in  the  ranks  of  the  Kinsky  regiment. 
General  Schcmeck  had  obtained  the  privilege  for  him  from 
the  Marshal,  General  Pierson  refusing  to  lift  a  finger  on  bis 
behalf.     Nevertheless  the  uncle  was  not  sorry  to  hear  the 


410  VITTORIA. 

tale  of  his  neptew's  exploits  during  the  campaign,  or  of  the 
eccentric  intrepidity  of  the  white  umbrella ;  and  both  to 
please  him,  and  to  intercede  for  Wilfrid,  the  latter's  old 
comrades  recited  his  deeds  as  a  part  of  the  treasured  familial 
history  of  the  army  in  its  late  arduous  struggle. 

General  Pierson  was  chiefly  anxious  to  know  whether 
Countess  Lena  would  be  willing  to  give  her  hand  to  Wilfrid 
in  the  event  of  his  restoration  to  his  antecedent  position  in 
the  army.  He  found  her  extremely  excited  about  Carlo 
Ammiani,  her  old  playmate,  and  once  her  dear  friend.  She 
would  not  speak  of  Wilfrid  at  all.  To  appease  the  chivalrous 
little  woman.  General  Pierson  hinted  that  his  nephew,  being 
under  the  protection  of  General  Schoneck,  might  get  some 
intelligence  from  that  officer.  Lena  pretended  to  reject  the 
notion  of  her  coming  into  communication  with  Wilfrid  for 
any  earthly  purpose.  She  said  to  herself,  however,  that  her 
object  was  pre-eminently  unselfish ;  and  as  the  General 
pointedly  refused  to  serve  her  in  a  matter  that  concerned  an 
Italian  nobleman,  she  sent  directions  to  Wilfrid  to  go  before 
General  Schoneck  the  moment  he  was  off  duty,  and  ask  his 
assistance,  in  her  name,  to  elucidate  the  mystery  of  Count 
Ammiani's  behaviour.  The  answer  was  a  transmission  of 
Captain  Weisspriess's  letter  to  Cai-lo.  Lena  caused  the  fact 
of  this  letter  having  missed  its  way  to  be  circulated  in  the 
journals,  and  then  she  carried  it  triumphantly  to  her  sister, 
saying : 

"  There  !  I  knew  these  reports  were  a  base  calumny." 

"  Reports,  to  what  effect  ?"  said  Anna. 

"  That  Carlo  Ammiani  had  slunk  from  a  combat  with  your 
duellist." 

"  Oh !  I  knew  that  myself,"  Anna  remarked. 

"  You  were  the  loudest  in  proclaiming  it." 

"  Because  I  intend  to  ruin  him." 

"  Carlo  Ammiani  ?     What  has  he  done  to  you  ?" 

Anna's  eyes  had  fallen  on  the  additional  lines  of  the  letter 
which  she  had  not  dictated.     She  frowned  and  exclaimed : 

"  What  is  this  ?  Does  the  man  play  me  false  ?  Read 
those  lines,  Lena,  and  tell  me,  does  the  man  mean  to  fight  in 
earnest  who  can  dare  to  write  them  ?  He  advises  Ammiani 
to  go  to  Venice.  It's  treason,  if  it  is  not  cowardice.  And 
see  here — he  has  the  audacity  to  say  that  he  deeply  respects 


ANNA  OP  LENKENSTEIN.  411 

tlie  lady  Ammiani  is  going  to  maiTy.     Is  Ammiani  going  to 
many  her  ?     I  think  not." 

Anna  dashed  the  letter  to  the  floor. 

"  But  I  will  make  use  of  what's  within  my  reach,"  she 
said,  picking  it  np. 

"  Carlo  Ammiani  will  marry  her,  I  presume,"  said  Lena. 

"  Not  before  he  has  met  Captain  Weisspriess,  who,  by  the 
way,  has  obtained  his  majority.  And,  Lena,  my  dear,  write 
to  inform  him  that  we  wish  to  offer  him  our  congratulations. 
He  will  be  a  General  officer  in  good  time." 

"  Perhaps  you  forget  that  Count  Ammiani  is  a  perfect 
swordsman,  Anna." 

"  "Weisspriess  remembers  it  for  me,  perhaps  ; — is  that  your 
idea,  Lena  ?" 

"  He  might  do  so  profitably.  You  hare  thrown  him  on 
two  swords." 

"  Merely  to  provoke  the  third.  He  is  invincible.  If  he 
were  not,  where  would  his  use  be  ?" 

"  Oh,  how  I  loathe  revenge!"  cried  Lena. 

"  Tou  cannot  love !"  her  sister  retorted.  "  That  woman 
calling  hersflf  Vittoria  Campa  shall  suffer.  She  has  injured 
and  defied  me.  How  was  it  that  she  behaved  to  us  at 
Meran  ?  She  is  mixed  up  with  assassins  ;  she  is  insolent — a 
dark-minded  slut ;  and  she  catches  stupid  men.  My  brother, 
my  countiy,  and  this  weak  Weisspriess,  as  I  saw  him  lying 
in  the  Ultenthal,  cry  out  against  her.  I  have  no  sleep.  I 
am  not  revengeful.  Say  it,  say  it,  all  of  you  !  but  I  am  not. 
I  am  not  unforgiving.  I  worship  justice,  and  a  black  deed 
haunts  me.  Let  the  wicked  be  contrite  and  wasted  in  tears, 
and  I  think  I  can  pardon  them.  But  I  will  have  them  on 
their  knees.  I  hate  that  woman  Vittoria  more  than  I  hate 
Angelo  Guidascarpi.  Look,  Lena.  If  both  were  begging  for 
life  to  me,  I  would  send  him  to  the  gallows  and  her  to  her 
bedchamber;  and  all  because  I  worship  justice,  and  believe 
it  to  be  the  weapon  of  the  good  and  pious.  You  have  a 
baby's  heart ;  so  has  Karl.  He  declines  to  second  Weiss- 
priess ;  he  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  duelling  ;  he  would 
behold  his  sisters  mocked  in  the  streets,  and  pass  on.  He 
talks  of  Paul's  death  like  a  priest.  Priests  are  worthy  men; 
a  great  resource !  Give  me  a  priest's  lap  when  I  need  it. 
Shall  I  be  condemned  to  go  to  the  priest  and  leave  that 
woman  singing  f     If  1  did,  I  might  well  say  the  world's  a 


412  VITTORIA. 

snare,  a  sham,  a  pitfall,  a  horror !  It's  what  I  don't  think 
in  any  degree.  It's  what  you  think,  though.  Yes,  whenever 
you  are  vexed  you  think  it.  So  do  the  priests,  and  so  do  all 
who  will  not  exert  themselves  to  chastise.  I,  on  the  con- 
trary, know  that  the  world  is  not  made  up  of  nonsense. 
Write  to  Weisspriess  immediately ;  I  must  have  him  here  in 
an  hour." 

Weisspriess,  on  visiting  the  ladies  to  receive  their  con- 
gratulations, was  unprepared  for  the  sight  of  his  letter  to 
Carlo  Ammiani,  which  Anna  thrust  before  him  after  he  had 
saluted  her,  bidding  him  read  it  aloud.  He  perused  it  in 
silence.     He  was  beginning  to  be  afraid  of  his  mistress. 

"  I  called  you  Austria  once,  for  you  were  always  ready," 
Anna  said,  and  withdrew  from  him,  that  the  sting  of  her 
words  might  take  elfect. 

"  God  knows,  I  have  endeavoured  to  earn  the  title  in  my 
humble  way,"  Weisspriess  appealed  to  Lena. 

"Yes,  Major  Weisspriess,  you  have,"  she  said.  "Be 
Austria  still,  and  forbear  toward  these  people  as  much  as 
you  can.  To  beat  them  is  enough  in  my  mind.  I  am  re- 
joiced that  you  have  not  met  Count  Ammiani,  for  if  you  had, 
two  friends  of  mine,  equally  dear  and  equally  skilful,  would 
have  held  their  lives  at  one  another's  mercy." 

"  Equally !"  said  Weisspriess,  and  pulled  out  the  length  of 
his  moustache. 

"  Equally  courageous,"  Lena  corrected  herself.  "  I  never 
distrusted  Count  Ammiani's  courage,  nor  could  distrust 
yours." 

"  Equally  dear  !"  Weisspriess  tried  to  direct  a  concentrated 

gaze  on  her. 

Lena  evaded  an  answer  by  speaking  of  the  rumour  of 

Count  Ammiani's  marriage. 

Weisspriess  was  thinking  with  all  the  sagacious  penetra- 
tion of  the  military  mind  that  perhaps  this  sister  was  trying 
to  tell  him  that  she  would  be  willing  to  usurp  the  place  of 
the   other   in    his    affections;    and   if    so,    why   should   she 

not? 

"  I  may  cherish  the  idea  that  I  am  dear  to  yoa.  Countess 

Lena?" 

"  When  you  are  formally  betrothed  to  my  sister,  you  will 
know  you  are  very  dear  to  me.  Major  Weisspriess." 

"  But,"  said  he,  perceiving  his  error,  "  how  many  persons 


ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN.  413 

am  I  to  call  out  before  she  will  conspnt  to  a  formal 
betrothal  ?" 

Lena  was  half  smiling  at  the  little  tentative  bit  of  senti- 
ment she  had  so  easily  turned  aside.  Her  advice  to  him 
was  to  refuse  to  fight,  seeing  that  he  had  done  suliicient  for 
glory  and  his  good  name. 

He  mentioned  Major  Nagen  as  a  rival. 

Upon  this  she  said  :  "  Hear  me  one  minute.  I  was  in  my 
sister's  bedroom  on  the  first  night  when  she  knew  of  your 
lying  wounded  in  the  Ultenthal.  She  told  you  just  now  that 
she  called  you  Austria.  She  adores  our  Austria  in  you. 
The. thought  that  you  had  been  vanquished  seemed  like  our 
Austria  vanquished,  and  she  is  so  strong  for  Austria  that  it 
is  really  out  of  her  power  to  fancy  you  as  defeated  without 
suspecting  foul  play.  So  when  she  makes  you  fight,  she 
thinks  you  safe.  Many  are  to  go  down  because  you  have 
gone  down.  Do  you  not  see  ?  And  now,  Major  Weisspriess, 
I  need  not  expose  my  sister  to  you  any  more,  I  hope,  or 
depreciate  Major  Nagen  for  jonr  satisfaction." 

Weisspriess  had  no  other  interview  with  Anna  for  several 
days.  She  shunned  him  openly.  Her  carriage  moved  off 
when  he  advanced  to  meet  her  at  the  parade,  or  review  of 
arms ;  and  she  did  not  scruple  to  speak  in  public  with  Major 
Nagen,  in  the  manner  of  those  who  have  begun  to  speak 
together  in  private.  The  offender  received  his  punishment 
gracefully,  as  men  will  who  have  been  taught  that  it  flatters 
them.  He  refused  every  challenge.  From  Caido  Ammiani 
there  came  not  a  word. 

It  would  have  been  a  deadly  lull  to  any  fiery  temperament 
engaged  in  plotting  to  destroy  a  victim,  but  Anna  had  the 
patience  of  hatred — that  absolute  malignity  which  can  mea- 
sure its  exultation  rather  by  the  gathering  of  its  power  to 
harm  than  by  striking.  She  could  la}-  it  aside,  or  sink  it  to 
the  bottom  of  her  emotions,  at  will,  when  circumstances  ap- 
peared against  it.  And  she  could  do  this  without  fretful 
regrets,  without  looking  to  the  future.  The  spirit  of  her 
hatred  extracted  its  own  nourishment  from  things,  like  an 
organized  creature.  When  foiled  she  became  passive,  and 
she  enjoyed — forced  herself  compliantly  to  enjoy — her  re- 
doubled energy  of  hatred  voluptuously,  if  ever  a  turn  in 
events  made  wieck  of  her  scheming.  She  hated  Vittoria  for 
many  reasons,  all  of  them  vague  within  her  bosom  because 


414  VITTORIA. 

the  source  of  tliem  was  indefinite  and  lay  in  tlie  fact  of  her 
having  come  into  collision  with  an  opposing  natui'e,  whose 
rivalry  was  no  visible  rivalry,  whose  triumph  was  an  ignor- 
ance of  scorn — a  woman  who  attracted  all  men,  who  scattered 
injuries  with    insolent  artlessness,   who    never  appealed  to 
forgiveness,  and  was  a  low-born  woman  daring  to  be  proud. 
By  repute  Anna  was  implacable,  but  she  had,  and  knew  she 
had,   the  capacity  for  magnanimity  of  a  certain  kind ;  and 
her  knowledge  of  the  existence   of  this   unsuspected    fund 
within  her,  justified  in  some  degree  her  reckless  efforts  to 
pull  her  enemy  down  on  her  knees.     It  seemed  doubly  right 
that  she  should  force  Vittoria  to  penitence,  as  being  good 
for  the  woman,  and  an  end  that  exonerated  her  own  private 
sins  committed   to  eifect  it.     Yet  she  did  not  look  clearly 
forward  to  the  day  of  Vittoria's  imploring  for  mercy.     She 
had  too  many  vexations  to  endure  :  she  was  an  insufficient 
schemer,   and  was  too   frequently   thwarted  to   enjoy  that 
ulterior  prospect.     Her  only  servile  instruments  were  Major 
Nagen,  and  Irma,  who  came  to  her  from  the  Villa  Ricciardi, 
hot  to  do  her  rival  any  deadly  injury ;  but  though  willing  to 
attempt  much,  these  were  apparently  able  to  perform  little 
more  than  the  menial  work  of  vengeance.     Major  Nagen  wrote 
in  the  name  of  Weisspriess  to  Count  Ammiani,  appointing 
a  second  meeting  at  Como,  and  stating  that  he  would  be 
at  the  villa  of  the  Duchess  of  Graiitli  there.     Weisspriess 
was  unsuspectingly  taken  down  to   the  place  by  Anna  and 
Lena.     There  was  a  gathering  of  such  guests  as  the  duchess 
alone  among  her  countrywomen  could  assemble,  under  the 
patronage  of  the  conciliatory  Government,  and  the  duchess 
projected  to  give  a  series  of  brilliant  entertainments  in  the 
saloons  of  the  Union,  as  she  named  her  house-roof.     Count 
Serabiglione  ai^rived,  as  did  numerous  Moderates  and  priest- 
party  men,  Milanese  garrison   officers  and  others.      Laura 
Piaveni  travelled  with  Countess  d'Isorella  and  the  happy 
Adela   Scdley,  from  Lago  Maggiore.      Laura  came,  as  she 
cruelly  told  her  friend,  for  the  purpose  of  making  Vittoria's 
excuses  to  the  duchess.     "  Why  can  she  not  not  come  her- 
self ?"  Amalia  persisted  in  asking,  and  began  to  be  afflicted 
with  womanly  curiosity.     Laura  would  do  nothing  but  shrug 
and  smile,  and  repeat  her  message.     A  little  after  sunset, 
when  the  saloons  were  lighted,  Weisspriess,  sitting  by  his 
Countess  Anna's  side,  had  a  slip  of  paper  placed  in  his  hands 


ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN.  415 

by  one  of  the  domestics.  He  quitted  liis  post  frowning  with, 
astonisliment,  and  niuttei'ed  once,  "  My  appointment !" 
Laura  noticed  that  Anna's  heavy  eyelids  lifted  to  shoot  an 
expressive  glance  at  Violetta  d'Isorella.  She  said :  "  Can 
that  have  been  an;yi;hing  hostile,  do  you  suppose  ?"  and 
glanced  slyly  at  her  friend. 

"No,  no,"  said  Amalia ;  "the  misunderstanding  is  ex- 
plained, and  Major  Weisspi'iess  is  just  as  ready  as  Count 
Ammiani  to  listen  to  reason.  Besides,  Count  Ammiani  is 
not  so  unfi'iendly  but  that  if  he  came  so  near  he  would  come 
up  to  me,  surely." 

Laura  brought  Amalia's  observation  to  bear  upon  Anna 
and  Violetta  by  turning  pointedly  from  one  to  the  other  as 
she  said :  "  As  for  reason,  perhaps  you  have  chosen  the 
word.  If  Count  Ammiani  attended  an  appointment  this 
time,  he  would  be  unreasonable." 

A  startled  "  Why  ?"  leaped  from  Anna's  lips.  -She  red- 
dened at  her  impulsive  clumsiness. 

Laura  raised  her  shoulders  slightly  :  "  Do  you  not  know?'* 
The  expression  of  her  face  reproved  Violetta,  as  for  remiss- 
ness in  transmitting  secret  intelligence.  "  You  can  answer 
why,  countess,"  she  addressed  the  latter,  eager  to  exercise 
her  native  love  of  conflict  with  this  doubtfully-faithful 
countrywoman  ; — the  Austrian  could  feel  that  she  had  beaten 
her  on  the  essential  point,  and  afford  to  give  her  any  number 
of  dialectical  victories. 

"  I  really  cannot  answer  why,"  Violetta  said ;  "  unless 
Count  Ammiani  is,  as  I  venture  to  hope,  better  employed." 

"  But  the  answer  is  charming  and  perfect,"  said 
Laura. 

"  Enigmatical  answers  are  declared  to  be  so  when  they 
come  from  us  women,"  the  duchess  remarked;  "  but  then,  I 
fancy,  women  must  not  be  the  hearers,  or  they  will  confess 
that  they  are  just  as  much  bewildered  and  irritated  as  I  am. 
Do  speak  out,  my  dearest.     How  is  he  better  employed  ?" 

Laura  passed  her  eyes  around  the  group  of  ladies.  "  If 
any  hero  of  yours  had  won  the  ^voman  he  loves,  he  would  bo 
right  in  thinking  it  folly  to  be  bound  by  the  invitation  to 
fight,  or  feast,  or  what  you  will,  within  a  space  of  three 
months  or  so ;  do  you  not  agree  with  me  ?" 

The  diffei-ent  emotions  on  many  visages  made  the  scene 
curious. 


416  VITTORIA 

"  Count  Ammiani  has  married  her !"  exclaimed  the 
duchess. 

"  My  old  friend  Carlo  is  really  married  !"  said  Lena. 

Anna  stared  at  Violetta. 

The  duchess,  recovering  from  her  wonder,  confirmed  the 
news  by  saying  that  she  now  knew  why  M.  Powys  had  left 
Milan  in  haste,  three  or  four  days  previously,  as  she  was 
aware  that  the  bride  had  always  wished  him  to  be  present 
at  the  ceremony  of  her  marriage. 

"  Signora,  may  I  ask  you,  were  you  present  ?"  Violetta 
addi'Gssed  Laura. 

"  I  will  answer  most  honestly  that  I  was  not,"  said  Laura. 

"  The  marriage  was  a  secret  one,  perhaps  ?" 

"Even  for  friends,  you  see." 

"  Necessarily,  no  doubt,"  Lena  said,  with  an  idea  of  easing 
her  sister's  stupefaction  by  a  sarcasm  foreign  to  her  senti- 
ments. 

Adela  Sedley,  later  in  exactly  comprehending  what  had 
been  spoken,  glanced  about  for  some  one  who  would  not  be 
unsympathetic  to  her  exclamation,  and  suddenly  beheld  her 
brother  entering  the  room  with  Weisspriess.  "  Wilfi'id ! 
AVilfrid  !  do  you  know  she  is  married  ?" 

"  So  they  tell  me,"  Wilfrid  replied,  while  making  his 
bow  to  the  duchess.  He  was  much  broken  in  appearance, 
but  wore  his  usual  collected  manner.  Who  had  told  him 
of  the  marriage  ?  A  person  downstairs,  he  said ;  not  Count 
Ammiani ;  not  Signor  Balderini ;  no  one  whom  he  saw  pre- 
sent, no  one  whom  he  knew. 

"  A  very  mysterious  person,"  said  the  duchess. 

"  Then  it's  true  after  all,"  cried  Laura.  "  I  did  but  guess 
it."     She  assured  Violetta  that  she  had  only  guessed  it. 

"Does  Major  Weisspriess  know  it  to  be  true?"  The 
question  came  from  Anna. 

Weisspriess  coolly  verified  it,  on  the  faith  of  a  common 
servant's  communication. 

The  ladies  could  see  that  some  fresh  piece  of  mystery  lay 
between  him  and  Wilfrid. 

"  With  whom  have  you  had  an  interview,  and  what  have 
you  heard  ?"  asked  Lena,  vexed  by  Wilfrid's  pallid  cheeks. 

Both  men  stammered  and  protested,  out  of  conceit,  and 
were  as  foolish  as  men  are  when  pushed  to  play  at  mutual 
concealment. 


ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN.  417 

The  diieliess's  chasseur,  Jacob  Baumwalder  Feclvclwitz, 
stepped  up  to  his  mistress  and  whisjiered  discreetly.  She 
gazed  straight  at  Laura.  After  hesitation  she  shook  her 
head,  and  the  chasseur  retired.  Amalia  then  came  to  the 
rescue  of  the  unhappy  military  wits  that  were  standing  a 
cross-fire  of  sturdy  interrogation. 

"  Do  you  not  perceive  what  it  is  ?"  she  said  to  Anna. 
"  Major  Weisspriess  meets  Private  Pierson  at  the  door  of 
my  house,  and  forgets  that  he  is  well-born  and  my  guest. 
I  may  be  revolutionary,  but  I  declare  that  in  plain  clothes 
Private  Pierson  is  the  equal  of  Major  Weisspriess.  If 
bravery  made  men  equals,  who  would  be  Herr  Pierson's 
superior  ?  He  has  done  me  the  honour,  at  a  sacrifice  of  his 
pride,  I  am  sure,  to  come  here  and  meet  his  sister,  and 
rejoice  me  with  his  society.  Major  Weisspi-iess,  if  I  under- 
stand the  case  correctly,  you  are  greatly  to  blame." 

"  I  beg  to  assert,"  Weisspriess  was  saying  as  the  duchess 
turned  her  shoulder  on  him. 

"There  is  really  no  foundation,"  Wilfrid  began,  with 
similar  simplicity. 

"  What  will  sharpen  the  wits  of  these  soldiers !"  the 
duchess  murmured  dolefully  to  Laura. 

"  But  Major  Weisspriess  was  called  out  of  his  room  by  a 
message — was  that  from  Pi-ivate  Piei-son  ?"  said  Anna. 

"  Assuredly  ;  I  should  presume  so,"  the  duchess  answered 
for  them. 

"  Ay  ;  undoubtedly,"  Weisspriess  supported  her. 

"  Then,"  Laura  smiled  encouragement  to  Wilfrid,  "  you 
know  nothing  of  Count  Ammiani's  marriage  after  all  ?" 

Wilfrid  launched  his  reply  on  a  sharp  repression  of  his 
breath,  "  Nothing  whatever." 

"And  the  common  servant's  communication  was  not  made 
to  you  ?"  Anna  interrogated  Weisspriess. 

"  I  simply  followed  in  the  track  of  Pierson,"  said  that 
officer,  masking  his  retreat  from  the  position  with  a  duck  of 
his  head  and  a  smile,  tooth  on  lip. 

"  How  could  you  ever  suppose,  child,  that  a  common 
servant  would  be  sent  to  deliver  such  tidings  ?  and  to 
Major  Weisspriess  !"  the  duchess  interposed. 

This  broke  up  the  Court  of  inquiry. 

Weisspriess  shortly  after  took  his  leave,  on  the  plea  that 
he  wished  to  prove  his  friendliness  by  accompanying  Private 

2e 


418  VITTORIA. 

Pierson,  who  liad  to  be  on  duty  early  next  day  in  Jlilan. 
Amalia  had  seen  him  breaking  from  Anna  in  extreme 
iin-itation,  and  he  had  only  to  pledge  his  word  that  he  was 
really  bound  for  Milan  to  satisfy  her.  "  I  believe  you  to  be 
at  heart  humane,"  she  said  meaningly. 

"  Duchess,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  would  not  kill  an 
enemy  save  on  the  point  of  my  sword,"  he  answered  her. 

"  You  are  a  gallant  man,"  said  Amalia,  and  pride  was  in 
her  face  as  she  looked  on  him. 

She  willingly  consented  to  Wilfrid's  sudden  departure,  as 
it  was  evident  that  some  shot  had  hit  him  hard. 

On  turning  to  Laura,  the  duchess  beheld  an  aspect  of  such 
shrewd  disgust  that  she  was  provoked  to  exclaim  :  "  What 
on  earth  is  the  matter  now  ?" 

Laura  would  favour  her  with  no  explanation  until  they 
were  alone  in  the  duchess's  boudoir,  when  she  said  that  to 
call  Weisspriess  a  gallant  man  was  an  instance  of  unblushing 
adulation  of  brutal  strength  :  "  Gallant  for  slaying  a  boy  ? 
Gallant  because  he  has  force  of  wrist  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  gallant ; — an  honour  to  his  countrymen :  and  an 
example  to  some  of  yours,"  Amalia  rejoined. 

"  See,"  cried  Laura,  "to  what  a  degeneracy  your  excess  of 
national  sentiment  reduces  you  !" 

While  she  was  flowingf  on,  the  duchess  leaned  a  hand 
across  her  shoulder,  and  smiling  kindly,  said  she  would  not 
allow  her  to  utter  words  that  she  would  have  to  eat.  "  You 
saw  my  chasseur  step  up  to  me  this  evening,  my  Laura  ? 
Well,  not  to  torment  you,  he  wished  to  sound  an  alarm  cry 
after  Angelo  Guidascarpi.  I  believe  my  conjecture  is  cor- 
rect, that  Angelo  Guidascarpi  was  seen  by  Major  Weisspriess 
below,  and  allowed  to  pass  fi"ee.  Have  you  no  remark  to 
make  ?" 

"  None,"  said  Laura. 

"  You  cannot  admit  that  he  behaved  like  a  gallant  man  ?" 
Laura  sighed  deeply.     "  Perhaps  it  was  well  for  you  to 
encourage  him !" 

The  mystery  of  Angelo's  interview  with  Weisspriess  was 
cleared  the  next  night,  when  in  the  midst  of  a  ball-room's 
din,  Aennchen,  Amalia's  favourite  maid,  brought  a  letter  to 
Laura  from  Countess  Ammiani.  These  were  the  con- 
tents : — 


ANNA  OF  LENKENSTEIN.  41JJ 

"  DeARESV  SiGNORA, 

"You  now  learn  a  new  and  blessed  thing'.  God 
make  the  maiTiage  fruitful !  I  have  daughter  as  well  as 
son.  Our  Carlo  still  hesitated,  for  hearing  of  the  disgi?.ce- 
ful  rumours  in  Milan,  he  fancied  a  duty  lay  there  for  him  to 
do.  Another  menace  came  to  my  daughter  from  the  mad- 
man Barto  Rizzo.  God  can  use  madmen  to  bring  about  the 
heavenly  designs.  We  decided  that  Carlo's  name  should 
cover  her.  My  son  was  like  a  man  who  has  awakened  up. 
M.  Powys  was  our  good  genius.  He  told  her  that  he  had 
promised  you  to  tiring  it  about.  He,  and  Angelo,  and 
mvself,  were  the  witnesses.  So  much  before  heaven !  I 
crossed  the  lake  with  them  to  Stresa.  I  was  her  tirewoman, 
with  Giacinta,  to  whom  I  will  give  a  husband  for  the  tears 
of  joy  she  dropped  upon  the  bed.  Blessed  be  it !  I  placed 
my  daughter  in  my  Carlo's  arms.  Both  kissed  their  mother 
at  parting. 

"  This  is  something  fixed.  I  had  great  fears  during  the 
war.  You  do  not  yet  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  sonless  son 
in  peril.  Terror  and  remorse  haunted  me  for  having  sent 
the  last  Ammiani  out  to  those  fields,  unattached  to  posterity. 

"An  envelope  from  Milan  arrived  on  the  morning  of  his 
nuptials.  It  was  intercepted  by  me.  The  German  made  a 
second  appointment  at  Como.  Angelo  undertook  to  assist 
me  in  saving  my  son's  honour.  So  my  Cai'lo  had  nothing  to 
disturb  his  day.  Pray  with  me,  Laura  Piaveni,  that  the 
day  and  the  night  of  it  may  prove  fresh  springs  of  a  river 
that  shall  pass  our  name  through  the  happier  mornings 
of  Italy !  I  commend  you  to  God,  aiy  dear,  and  am.  your 
friend, 

"  Marcellina,  Countess  Ammiani. 

*'  P.S.    Countess  Alessandra  will  be  my  daughter's  name,'* 

The  letter  was  read  and  re-read  before  the  sweeter  burden 
it  contained  would  allow  Laura  to  understand  that  Countess 
Ammiani  had  violated  a  seal  and  kept  a  second  hostile 
a}>pointment  hidden  from  her  son. 

"  Anialia,  you  detest  me,"  she  said,  when  they  had  left  the 
guests  for  a  short  space,  and  the  duchess  had  perused  the 
letter,  "  but  acknowledge  Angelo  Guidascarpi's  devotion. 
Ho  came  here  in  the  midst  of  you  Germans,  at  the  risk  of 
his  life,  to  offer  battle  for  his  cousin." 

2e2 


420  VITTOKIA. 

The  dncliess,  however,  had  much  more  to  say  for  the  mag- 
nanimity of  Major  Weisspriess,  who,  if  he  saw  him,  had 
spared  him ;  she  compelled  Laura  to  confess  that  Weiss- 
priess must  have  behaved  with  some  nobleness,  which  Laura 
did,  humming  and  '  brumming,'  and  hinting  at  the  experience 
he  had  gained  of  Angelo's  skill.  Her  naughtiness  provoked 
first,  and  then  affected  Amalia  ;  in  this  mood  the  duchess 
had  the  habit  of  putting  on  a  grand  air  of  pitying  sadness. 
Laura  knew  it  well,  and  never  could  make  head  against  it. 
She  wavered,  as  a  stray  floating  thing  detached  from  an  eddy 
whirls  and  passes  on  the  flood.  Close  on  Amalia's  bosom  she 
sobbed  out :  "  Yes  ;  you  Austrians  have  good  qualities — 
some  :  many !  but  you  choose  to  think  us  mean  because  we 
can't  readily  admit  them  when  we  are  under  your  heels. 
Just  see  me ;  what  a  crumb  feeds  me !  I  am  crying  with 
delight  at  a  marriage  !" 

The  duchess  clasped  her  fondly. 

"  It's  not  often  one  gets  you  so  humble,  my  Laura." 

"  I  am  crying  with  delight  at  a  marriage  !  Amalia,  look 
at  me  :  you  would  suppose  it  a  mighty  triumph.  A  mar- 
riage ! — two  little  lovers  lying  cheek  to  cheek !  and  mo 
blessing  heaven  for  its  goodness  !  and  there  may  be  dead 
men  unburied  still  on  the  accursed  Custozza  hill-top  ! " 

Amalia  let  her  weep.  The  soft  affection  which  the 
duchess  bore  to  her  was  informed  with  a  slight  touch  of 
envy  of  a  complexion  that  could  be  torn  with  tears  one 
minute,  and  the  next  be  fit  to  show  in  public.  No  other 
thing  made  her  regard  her  friend  as  a  southern — that  is,  a 
foreign — woman. 

"  Be.  patient,"  Laura  said. 

"  Cry  ;  you  need  not  be  restrained,"  said  Amalia. 

"  You  sighed." 

"  No !  " 

"  A  sort  of  sigh.  My  fit's  over.  Carlo's  marriage  is  too 
surprising  and  delicious.  I  shall  be  laughing  presently.  I 
hinted  at  his  marriage — I  thought  it  among  the  list  of 
possible  things,  no  more — to  see  if  that  crystal  pool,  called 
Violetta  d'Isorella,  could  be  discoloured  by  stirring.  Did 
you  watch  her  face  ?  I  don't  know  what  she  wanted  with 
Carlo,  for  she's  cold  as  poison— a  female  trifler ;  one  of  those 
women  whom  I,  and  I  have  a  chaste  body,  despise  as  worse 
than  wantons ;  but  she  certainly  did  not   want  him  to  be 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  421 

inaiTi«d.      It   seems   like   a  victory — though  we're  beaten. 
You  have  beaten  us,  my  dear!" 

"  My   darling !    it   is   your   husband    kisses     you,"    said 
AmaUa,  kissing  Laura's  forehead  from  a  full  heart. 


CHAPTER,  XL. 

THROUGH    THE     WINTER. 


Weisspriess  and  Wilfrid  made  their  way  toward  Milan 
together,  silently  smoking,  after  one  attempt  at  conversa- 
tion, which  touched  on  Vittoria's  marriage  ;  but  when  they 
reached  Monza  the  officer  slapped  his  degraded  brother-in- 
arms upon  the  shoulder,  and  asked  him  whether  he  had  any 
inclination  to  crave  permission  to  serve  in  Hungary.  For 
his  own  part,  Weisspriess  said  that  he  should  quit  Italy  at 
once ;  he  had  here  to  skewer  the  poor  devils,  one  or  two 
weekly,  or  to  play  the  mightily  generous  ;  in  short,  to  do 
things  unsoldierly ;  and  he  was  desirous  of  getting  away 
from  the  country.  General  Schoneck  was  at  Monza,  and 
might  aiTange  the  matter  for  them  both.  Promotion  was  to 
be  looked  for  in  Hungary ;  the  application  would  please  the 
General ;  one  battle  would  restore  the  lieutenant's  star  to 
Wilfrid's  collar.  Wilfrid,  who  had  been  oif ended  by  his 
companion's  previous  brooding  silence,  nodded  briefly,  and 
they  stopped  at  Monza,  where  they  saw  General  Schoneck 
in  the  morning,  and  Wilfrid  being  by  extraordinary  favour 
in  civilian's  dress  during  his  leave  of  absence,  they  were 
jointly  invited  to  the  General's  table  at  noon,  though  not  to 
meet  any  other  officer.  General  Schoneck  agreed  with 
AVeisspriess  that  Hungary  would  be  a  better  field  for 
Wilfrid  ;  said  he  would  do  his  utmost  to  serve  them  in  the 
manner  they  wished,  and  dismissed  them  after  the  second 
cigar.  They  strolled  about  the  city,  glad  for  reasons  of 
their  own  to  be  out  of  Milan  as  long  as  the  leave  permitted. 
At  night,  when  they  were  passing  a  palace  in  one  of  the 
dark  streets,  a  feather,  acc()m])anied  by  a  sliai-p  sil)ilati()n 
from  above,  dropped  on  Wilfrid's  face.  Weisspriess  hehl 
the  feather  up,  and  judged   by    its   length  that  it  was  an 


422  VITTORTA. 

eagle's,  and  therefore  belonging  to  the  Hungarian  Hnssar 
regiment  stationed  in  Milan.  "  The  bird's  aloft,"  he 
remarked.  His  voice  aroused  a  noise  of  feet  that  was 
instantly  still.  He  sent  a  glance  at  the  doorways,  where  he 
thought  he  discerned  men.  Fetching  a  whistle  in  with  his 
breath,  he  unsheathed  his  sword,  and  seeing  that  Wilfrid 
had  no  weapon,  he  pushed  him  to  a  gate  of  the  palace-court 
that  had  just  cautiously  turned  a  hinge.  Wilfrid  found  his 
hand  taken  by  a  woman's  hand  inside.  The  gate  closed 
behind  him.  He  was  led  up  to  an  apartment  where,  by  the 
light  of  a  darkly-veiled  lamp,  he  beheld  a  young  Hungarian 
officer  and  a  lady  clinging  to  his  neck,  praying  him  not  to 
go  forth.  Her  Italian  speech  revealed  how  matters  stood  in 
this  house.  The  officer  accosted  Wilfrid  :  "  But  you  are  not 
one  of  us  !"  He  repeated  it  to  the  lady  :  "  You  see,  the  man 
is  not  one  of  us  !  " 

She  assured  him  that  she  had  seen  the  uniform  when  sho 
dropped  the  feather,  and  wept  protesting  it. 

"  Louis,  Louis !  why  did  you  come  to-night !  why  did  I 
make  you  come !  Tou  will  be  slain.  1  had  my  warning, 
but  I  was  mad." 

The  officer  hushed  her  with  a  quick  squeeze  of  her  inter- 
twisted fingers. 

"  Are  you  the  man  to  take  a  sword  and  be  at  my  back, 
sir  ?"  he  said ;  and  resumed  in  a  manner  less  contemptuous 
toward  the  civil  costume :  "  I  request  it  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  quieting  this  lady's  fears." 

Wilfrid  explained  who  and  what  he  was.  On  hearing 
that  he  was  Gfeneral  Pierson's  nephew  the  officer  laughed 
cheerfully,  and  lifted  the  veil  from  the  lamp,  by  which 
Wilfrid  knew  him  to  be  Colonel  Prince  Radocky,  a  most 
gallant  and  the  handsomest  cavalier  in  the  Imperial  service. 
Radocky  laughed  again  when  he  was  told  of  Weisspriess 
keeping  guard  below. 

"  Aha  !  we  are  three,  and  can  fight  like  a  pyramid." 

He  flourished  his  hand  above  the  lady's  head,  and  called 
for  a  sword.  The  lady  affected  to  search  for  one  while  he 
stalked  up  and  down  in  the  jaunty  fashion  of  a  Magyar 
horseman ;  but  the  sword  was  not  to  be  discovered  without 
his  assistance,  and  he  was  led  away  in  search  of  it.  The 
moment  he  was  alone  Wilfrid  burst  into  tears.  He  could 
bear  anything   better   than   the   sight   of   fondling   lovers. 


THEOUGH  THE  WINTER.  423 

"When  they  rejoined  him,  Radocky  had  evidently  yielded 
some  point;  he  stammered  and  worked  his  under-lip  on  his 
moustache.  The  lady  undertook  to  speak  for  him.  Happily 
for  her,  she  said,  Wilfrid  would  not  compromise  her;  and 
taking  her  lover's  hand,  she  added  with  Italian  mixture  of 
wit  and  grace  : — 

"  Happily  for  me,  too,  he  does.  The  house  is  surrounded 
by  enemies  ;  it  is  a  reign  of  terror  for  women.  I  am  dead, 
if  they  slay  him ;  but  if  they  recognize  him,  I  am  lost." 

Wilfrid  readily  leaped  to  her  conclusion.  He  offered  his 
opera-hat  and  civil  mantle  to  Radocky,  who  depar-ted  in 
them,  leaving  his  military  cloak  in  exchange.  During 
breathless  seconds  the  lady  hung  kneeling  at  the  window. 
When  the  gate  opened  there  was  a  noise  as  of  feet  preparing 
to  rush  ;  Weisspriess  uttered  an  astonished  cry,  but  addressed 
Radocky  as  "my  Pierson  !"  lustily  and  frequently ;  and  was 
heard  putting  a  number  of  meaningless  questions,  laughing 
and  i-allying  Pierson  till  the  two  passed  out  of  hearing 
unmolested.  The  lady  then  kissed  a  Cross  passionately, 
and  shivered  Wilfrid's  manhood  by  asking  him  whether  he 
knew  what  love  was.     She  went  on : 

"  Never,  never  love  a  married  woman  !  It's  a  past  prac- 
tice. Wever !  Thrust  a  spike  in  the  palm  of  your  hand, 
drink  scalding  oil,  rather  than  do  that." 

"  The  Prince  Radocky  is  now  safe,"  Wilfrid  said. 

"  ^es,  he  is  safe ;  and  he  is  there,  and  I  am  here :  and  1 
cannot  follow  him  ;  and  when  will  he  come  to  me  ?" 

The  tones  were  lamentable.  She  struck  her  forehead, 
after  she  had  mutely  thrust  her  hand  to  right  and  left  to 
show  the  space  separating  her  from  her  lover. 

Her  voice  changed  when  she  accepted  Wilfrid's  adieux, 
to  whose  fate  in  the  deadly  street  she  appeared  quite  in- 
different, though  she  gave  him  one  or  two  prudent  directions, 
and  expressed  a  hope  that  she  might  bo  of  service  to  him. 

He  was  set  upon  as  soon  as  he  emerged  from  the  gateway ; 
the  cavalry  cloak  was  torn  from  his  back,  and  but  for  the 
chance  circumstance  of  his  swearing  in  English,  he  would 
have  come  to  harm.  A  chill  went  through  his  blood  on 
hearing  one  of  his  assailants  speak  the  name  of  Barto  Rizzo. 
The  English  oath  stopped  an  arm  that  flashed  a  dagger  half 
its  length.  Wilfrid  obeyed  a  command  to  declare  his  name, 
his  country,  and  his  rank.     "  It's  not  the  princo  !  it's  not  tho 


424  VITTORIA. 

Hungarian  !"  went  many  whispers  ;  and  he  was  drawn  away 
by  a  man  who  requested  him  to  deliver  his  reasons  for  enter- 
ing the  palace,  and  who  appeared  satisfied  by  Wilfrid's  ready 
mixture  of  invention  and  fact.  But  the  cloak  !  Wilfrid 
stated  boldly  that  the  cloak  was  taken  by  him  from  the 
Duchess  of  Grraatli's  at  Como ;  that  he  had  seen  a  tall  Hussar 
officer  slip  it  off  his  shoulders  ;  that  he  had  wanted  a  cloak, 
and  had  appropriated  it.  He  had  entered  the  gate  of  the 
palace  because  of  a  woman's  hand  that  plucked  at  the  skirts 
of  this  very  cloak. 

"  I  saw  you  enter,"  said  the  man  ;  "  do  that  no  more.  We 
will  not  have  the  blood  of  Italy  contaminated — do  you  hear  ? 
While  that  half-Austrian  Medole  is  tip-toeing  'twixt  Milan 
and  Turin,  we  watch  over  his  honour,  to  set  an  example  to 
our  women  and  your  officers.  You  have  outwitted  us  to- 
night.    Off  with  you !" 

Wilfrid  was  twirled  and  pushed  through  the  crowd  till  he 
got  free  of  them.  He  understood  very  well  that  they  were 
magnanimous  rascals  who  could  let  an  accomplice  go,  though 
they  would  have  di-iven  steel  into  the  principal. 

Nothing  came  of  this  adventure  for  some  time.  Wilfrid's 
reflections  (apart  from  the  horrible  hard  truth  of  Vittoria's 
marriage,  against  which  he  dashed  his  heart  perpetually, 
almost  asking  for  anguish)  had  leisure  to  examine  the  singu- 
larity of  his  feeling  a  commencement  of  pride  in  the  clasping 
of  his  musket ; — he  who  on  the  first  day  of  his  degradation 
had  planiied  schemes  to  stick  the  bayonet-point  between  his 
breast-bones  :  he  thought  as  well  of  the  queer  woman's  way 
in  Countess  Medole's  adjuration  to  him  that  he  should  never 
love  a  married  woman ; — in  her  speaking,  as  it  seemed,  on 
his  behalf,  when  it  was  but  an  outcry  of  her  own  acute 
wound.  Did  he  love  a  married  woman  ?  He  wanted  to  see 
one  married  woman  for  the  last  time  ;  to  throw  a  frightful 
look  on  her ;  to  be  sublime  in  scorn  of  her  ;  perhaps  to  love 
her  all  the  better  for  the  cruel  pain,  in  the  expectation  of 
being  consoled.  While  doing  duty  as  a  military  machine, 
these  were  the  pictures  in  his  mind  ;  and  so  well  did  his 
routine  drudgery  enable  him  to  bear  them,  that  when  he 
heard  from  General  Schoneck  that  the  term  of  his  degrada- 
tion was  to  continue  in  Italy,  and  from  his  sister  that  General 
Pierson  refused  to  speak  of  him  or  hear  of  him  until  he  had 
regained  his  gold  shoulder-strap,  he  revolted  her  with  aa 


THROUGH  THE  WINTEE.  425 

ejaculation  of  gladness,  and  swore  bmtally  that  he  desired 
to  have  no  advancement ;  nothing  bnt  sleep  and  drill ;  and, 
he  added  conscientiously,  Havannah  cigars.  "  He  has  grown 
to  be  like  a  common  soldier,"  Adela  said  to  herself  with  an 
amazed  contemplation  of  the  family  tie.  Still,  she  worked 
on  his  behalf,  having,  as  every  woman  has,  too  strong  an 
instinct  as  to  what  is  natural  to  us  to  believe  completely  in 
any  eccentric  assertion.  She  carried  the  tale  of  his  grief  and 
trials  and  his  romantic  devotion  to  the  Imperial  flag,  dai  y 
to  Countess  Lena ;  persisting,  though  she  could  not  win  a 
responsive  look  from  Lena's  face. 

One  day  on  the  review-ground,  Wilfrid  beheld  Prince 
Radocky  bending  from  his  saddle  in  conversation  with  Weiss- 
priess.  The  prince  galloped  up  to  General  Pierson,  and 
stretched  his  hand  to  where  Wilfrid  was  posted  as  marker  to 
a  wheeling  column,  kept  the  hand  stretched  oat,  and  spoke 
furiously,  and  followed  the  General  till  he  was  ordered  to 
head  his  regiment.  Wilfrid  began  to  hug  his  musket  less 
desperately.  Little  presents — feminine  he  knew  by  the  per- 
fumes floating  round  them — gloves  and  cigars,  fine  handker- 
chiefs, and  silks  for  wear,  came  to  his  barracks.  He  pretended 
to  accuse  his  sister  of  sending  them.  She  in  honest  delight 
accused  Lena.  Lena  then  accused  herself  of  not  having 
done  so. 

It  was  winter :  Vittoria  had  been  seen  in  Milan.  Both 
Lena  and  Wilfrid  spontaneously  guessed  her  to  be  the  guilty 
one.  He  made  a  funeral  pyre  of  the  gifts  and  gave  his  sister 
the  ashes,  supposing  that  she  had  guessed  with  the  same 
spirited  intuition.  It  suited  Adela  to  relate  this  lover's  per- 
formance to  Lena.  "He  did  well !"  Lena  said,  and  kissed 
Adela  for  the  first  time.  Adela  was  the  bearer  of  friendly 
messages  to  the  poor  private  in  the  ranks.  From  her  and 
from  little  Jenna,  Wilfrid  heard  that  he  was  unforgotten  by 
Countess  Lena,  and  new  hopes  mingled  with  gratitude  caused 
him  to  regard  his  situation  seriously.  He  confessed  to  his 
sister  that  the  filthy  fellows,  his  comi-ades,  were  all  but  too 
much  for  him,  and  asked  her  to  kiss  him,  that  he  might  feel 
he  was  not  one  of  them.  But  ho  would  not  send  a  message 
in  reply  to  Lena.  "  That  is  also  well !"  Lena  said.  Her 
brother  Karl  was  a  favourite  with  General  Picu-son.  Sha 
proposed  that  Adela  and  liersolf  should  go  to  Count  Kiii-l, 
and  urge  him  to  use  his  influence  with  the  General.     Thi^ 


42fi  VITTORIA. 

however,  Adela  was  disinclined  to  do ;  she  conld  not  appa- 
rently say  why.  When  Lena  went  to  him,  she  was  astonished 
to  hear  that  he  knew  every  stag^e  of  her  advance  up  to  the 
point  of  pardoning  her  erratic  lover;  and  even  knew  as  much 
as  that  Wilfrid's  dejected  countenance  on  the  night  when 
Vittoria's  marriage  was  published  in  the  saloon  of  the 
duchess  on  Lake  Como,  had  given  her  fresh  offence.  Ho 
told  her  that  many  powerful  advocates  were  doing  their  best 
for  the  down-fallen  officer,  who,  if  he  were  shot,  or  killed, 
would  still  be  gazetted  an  officer.  "A  nice  comfort!"  said 
Lena,  and  there  was  a  rallying  exchange  of  banter  between 
them,  out  of  which  she  drew  the  curious  discovery  that  Karl 
had  one  of  his  strong  admirations  for  the  English  lady. 
*'  Surely  !"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  I  thought  they  were  all  so 
cold."  And  cold  enough  the  English  lady  seemed  when  Lena 
led  to  the  theme.  "  Do  I  admire  your  brother,  Countess 
Lena  ?     Oh  !  yes  ; — ^in  his  uniform  exceedingly." 

Milan  was  now  full.  Wilfrid  had  heard  from  Adela 
that  Count  Ammiani  and  his  bride  were  in  the  city  and 
were  strictly  watched.  Why  did  not  conspirators  like 
these  two  take  advantage  of  the  amnesty  ?  Why  were  they 
not  in  Rome  ?  Their  Chief  was  in  Rome ;  their  friends 
■were  in  Rome.  Why  were  they  here  ?  A  report,  coming 
from  Countess  d'Isorella,  said  that  they  had  quarrelled  with 
their  friends,  and  were  living  for  love  alone.  As  she  visited 
the  Lenkensteins — high  Anstrians — some  believed  her  ;  and 
as  Count  Ammiani  and  his  bride  had  visited  the  Duchess  of 
Graiitli,  it  was  thought  possible.  Adela  had  refused  to  see 
Vittoria  ;  she  did  not  even  know  the  house  where  Count 
Ammiani  dwelt ;  so  Wilfrid  was  reduced  te  find  it  for  him- 
self. Every  hour  when  off  duty  the  miserable  senti- 
mentalist wandered  in  that  direction,  nursing  the  pangs  of 
a  delicious  tragedy  of  emotions ;  he  was  like  a  drunkard 
going  to  his  draught.  As  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  head 
of  the  Corso,  he  wheeled  and  marched  away  from  it  with  a 
lofty  head,  internally  grinning  at  his  abject  folly,  and  mar- 
velling at  the  stiff  fig-ure  of  an  Austrian  common  soldier 
which  flashed  by  the  windows  as  he  passed.  He  who  can 
unite  prudence  and  madness,  sagacity  and  stupidity,  is  the 
true  buffoon;  nor,  vindictive  as  were  his  sensations,  was 
Wilfrid  unaware  of  the  contrast  of  Vittoria's  soul  to  his 
own,  that  was  now  made  up  of  antics.     He  could  not  endure 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  427 

the  tones  of  cathedral  rtnisic ;  but  lie  had  at  times  to  kneel 
and  listen  to  it,  and  be  overcome. 

On  a  night  in  the  month  of  February,  a  servant  out  of 
livery  addressed  him  at  the  barrack-gates,  requesting  him 
to  go  at  once  to  a  certain  hotel,  where  his  sister  was  staying. 
He  went,  and  found  there,  not  his  sister,  but  Countess 
Medole.  She  smiled  at  his  confusion.  Both  she  and  the 
prince,  she  said,  had  spared  no  effort  to  get  him  reinstated 
in  his  rank ;  but  his  uncle  continually  opposed  the  endea- 
vours  of  all  his  friends  to  serve  him.  This  interview  was 
dictated  by  the  prince's  wish,  so  that  he  might  know  them 
to  be  a  not  ungrateful  couple.  Wilfrid's  embarrassment  in 
standing  before  a  lady  in  jjrivate  soldier's  uniform,  enabled 
him  with  very  peculiar  dignity  to  declare  that  his  present 
degradation,  from  the  General's  point  of  view,  was  a  just 
punishment,  and  he  did  not  crave  to  have  it  abated.  She 
remarked  that  it  must  end  soon.  He  made  a  dim  allusion 
to  the  littleness  of  humanity.  She  laughed.  "  It's  the 
language  of  an  unfortunate  lover,"  she  said,  and  straightway, 
in  some  undistinguished  sentence,  brought  the  name  of 
Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani  tingling  to  his  ears.  She 
feared  that  she  could  not  be  of  service  to  him  there ;  "  at 
least,  not  just  yet,"  the  lady  astonished  him  by  remarking. 
"  I  might  help  you  to  see  her.  If  you  take  my  advice  you 
will  wait  patiently.  You  know  us  well  enough  to  under- 
stand what  patience  will  do.  She  is  supposed  to  have 
married  for  love.  Whether  she  did  or  not,  you  must  allow 
a  young  married  woman  two  years'  grace." 

The  eifect  of  speech  like  this,  and  more  in  a  similar  strain 
of  frank  corruptness,  was  to  cleanse  Wilfrid's  mind,  and 
nerve  his  heart,  and  he  denied  that  he  had  any  desire  to 
meet  the  Countess  Ammiani,  unless  he  could  perform  a 
service  that  would  be  agreeable  to  her. 

The  lady  shrugged.  "  Well,  that  is  one  way.  She  has 
enemies,  of  course." 

Wilfrid  begged  for  their  names. 

"  Who  are  they  not  ?"  she  replied.  "  Chiefly  women,  it 
is  true." 

He  begged  most  earnestly  for  their  names ;  he  would 
have  pleaded  eloquently,  but  dreaded  that  the  intorfation  of 
one  in  his  low  garb  might  be  taken  for  a  whine  ;  yet  he 
ventured  to  say  that  if   the  countess   did  imagine  herself 


428  VITTOEIA. 

indebted  to  him  in  a  small  degree,  tlie  mention  of  two  or 
three  Qf  the  names  of  Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani's 
enemies  would  satisfy  him. 

"  Countess  Lena  von  Lenkenstein,  Countess  Violetta 
d'lsorella,  Signorina  Irma  di  Karski." 

She  spoke  the  names  out  like  a  sum  that  she  was  paying 
down  in  gold  pieces,  and  immediately  rang  the  bell  for  her 
servant  and  carriage,  as  if  she  had  now  acquitted  her  debt. 
Wilfrid  bowed  himself  forth.  A  resolution  of  the  best  kind, 
quite  unconnected  with  his  interests  or  his  love,  urged  him 
on  straight  to  the  house  of  the  Lenkensteins,  where  he  sent 
up  his  name  to  Countess  Lena.  After  a  delay  of  many 
minutes.  Count  Lenkenstein  accompanied  by  General  Pierson 
came  down,  both  evidently  affecting  not  to  see  him.  The 
General  barely  acknowledged  his  salute. 

"  Hey !  Kinsky  !"  The  count  turned  in  the  doorway  to 
address  him  by  the  title  of  his  regiment;  "  here  ;  show  me 
the  house  inhabited  by  the  Countess  d'lsorella  during  the 
revolt." 

Wilfrid  followed  them  to  the  end  of  the  street,  pointing 
his  finger  to  the  house,  and  saluted. 

"  An  Englishman  did  me  the  favour — from  pure  eccen- 
tricity, of  course — to  save  my  life  on  that  exact  spot, 
General,"  said  the  count.  "Your  countrymen  usually  take 
the  other  side  ;  therefore  I  mention  it." 

As  Wilfrid  was  directing  his  steps  to  barracks  (the  little 
stir  to  his  pride  superinduced  by  these  remarks  having 
demoralized  him),  Count  Lenkenstein  shouted:  "Are  you 
off  duty  ?"  Wilfrid  had  nearly  replied  that  he  was,  but  just 
mastered  himself  in  time.  "  No,  indeed !"  said  the  count, 
"  when  you  have  sent  up  your  name  to  a  lady."  This  time 
General  Pierson  put  two  fingers  formally  to  his  cap,  and 
smiled  grimly  at  the  private's  rigid  figure  of  attention.  If 
Wilfrid's  form  of  pride  had  consented  to  let  him  take  delight 
in  the  fact,  he  would  have  seen  at  once  that  prosperity  was 
ready  to  shine  on  him.  He  ntirsed  the  vexations  much  too 
tenderly  to  give  prosperity  a  welcome  ;  and  even  when  alone 
with  Lena,  and  convinced  of  her  attachment,  and  glad  of  it, 
he  persisted  in  driving  at  the  subject  which  had  brought  him 
to  her  house ;  so  that  the  veil  of  opening  commonplaces, 
pleasant  to  a  couple  in  their  position,  was  plucked  aside. 
His   business   was    to  ask   her  why  she  was  the  enemy  of 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  429 

Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani,  and  to  entreat  her  that  she 
should  not  seek  to  harm  that  lady.  He  put  it  in  a  set 
speech.  Lena  felt  that  it  ought  to  have  come  last,  not  in 
advance  of  their  reconciliation.  "  I  will  answer  you,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  not  the  Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani'a 
enemy." 

He  asked  her :  "  Could  you  be  her  friend  ?" 
"•  Does  a  Avoman  who  has  a  husband  want  a  friend  ?" 
"  I  could  reply,  countess,  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  has  a 
bride." 

By  dint  of  a  sweet  suggestion  here  and  there,  love-making 
crossed  the  topic.  It  appeared  that  General  Pierson  had 
finally  been  attacked,  on  the  question  of  his  resistance  to 
every  endeavour  to  restore  Wilfrid  to  his  rank,  by  Count 
Lenkenstein,  and  had  barely  spoken  the  words — that  if  Wil- 
frid came  to  Countess  Lena  of  his  own  free-will,  unprompted, 
to  beg  her  forgiveness,  he  would  help  to  reinstate  him,  when 
Wilfrid's  name  was  brought  up  by  the  chasseur.  All  had 
laughed,  "  even  I,"  Lena  confessed.  And  then  the  couple 
had  a  pleasant  pettish  wrangle ; — he  was  requested  to  avow 
that  he  had  come  solely,  or  principally,  to  beg  forgiveness 
of  her,  who  had  such  heaps  to  forgive.  No ;  on  his  honour, 
he  had  come  for  the  purpose  previously  stated,  and  on  the 
spur  of  his  hearing  that  she  was  Countess  Alessandra 
Ammiani's  deadly  enemy.  "  Could  you  believe  that  I  was  ?" 
said  Lena;  "  why  should  I  be  ?"  and  he  coloured  like  a  lad, 
which  sign  of  an  ingenuousness  supposed  to  belong  to  her 
sex,  made  Lena  bold  to  take  the  upper  hand.  She  frankly 
accused  herself  of  jealousy,  though  she  did  not  say  of  whom. 
She  almost  admitted  that  when  the  time  for  reflection  came, 
she  should  rejoice  at  his  having  sought  her  to  plead  for  his 
friend  rather  than  for  her  forgiveness.  In  the  end,  but  with 
a  drooping  pause  of  her  bright  swift  look  at  Wilfrid,  she 
promised  to  assist  him  in  defeating  any  machinations  against 
Vittoria's  happiness,  and  to  keep  him  informed  of  Countess 
d'Isorella's  movements.  Wilfrid  noticed  the  withdrawing 
fire  of  the  look.  "  By  heaven  !  she  doubts  me  still,"  he 
ejaculated  inwardly. 

These  half-comic  little  people  have  their  place  in  the  his- 
tory of  higher  natures  and  darker  destinies.  Wilfrid  met 
Pericles,  from  whom  he  heard  that  Vittoria,  with  her  hus- 
band's consent,  had  pledged  herself  to  sing  publicly.     "  It  is 


430  VITTORIA. 

for  ze  Lombard  widows,"  Pericles  apologized  on  her  behalf ; 
"  but,  do  you  see,  I  onnly  want  a  beginning.  She  thaerst 
for  ze  stage ;  and  it  is,  after  marriage,  a  good  sign.  Oh ! 
you  shall  hear,  my  friend ;  marriage  have  done  her  no  hurt 
— ze  contrary  !  You  shall  hear  Hymen — Cupids — not  a  cold 
machine  ;  it  is  an  organ  alaif  !  She  has  privily  sung  to  her 
Pericles,  and  ser,  and  if  I  wake  not  very  late  on  Judgement- 
Day,  I  shall  zen  hear — but  why  should  I  talk  poetry  to  you, 
to  make  you  laugh  ?  T  have  a  divin'  passion  for  zat  woman. 
Do  I  not  give  her  to  a  husband,  and  say.  Be  happy !  onnly 
sing !  Be  kissed !  be  hugged !  onnly  give  Pericles  your 
voice.  By  Saint  Alexandre !  it  is  to  say  to  ze  heavens, 
Move  on  your  way,  so  long  as  you  drop  rain  on  us — you 
smile — you  look  kind." 

Pericles  accompanied  him  into  a  caffe,  the  picture  of  an 
enamoured  happy  man.  He  waived  aside  contemptuously 
all  mention  of  Vittoria's  having  enemies.  She  had  them 
when,  as  a  virgin,  she  had  no  sense.  As  a  woman,  she  had 
none,  for  she  now  had  sense.  Had  she  not  brought  her  hus- 
band to  be  sensible,  so  that  they  moved  together  in  Milanese 
society,  instead  of  stupidly  fighting  at  Rome  ?  so  that  what 
he  could  not  take  to  himself — the  marvellous  voice — he  let 
bless  the  multitude  !  "  She  is  the  Beethoven  of  singers," 
Pericles  concluded.  Wilfrid  thought  so  on  the  night  when 
she  sang  to  succour  the  Lombard  widows.  It  was  at  a  con- 
cert, richly  thronged  ;  ostentatiously  thronged  with  Austrian 
uniforms.  He  fancied  that  he  could  not  bear  to  look  on  her. 
He  left  the  house  thinking  that  to  hear  her  and  see  her  and  feel 
that  she  was  one  upon  the  earth,  made  life  less  of  a  burden. 

This  evening  was  rendered  remarkable  by  a  man's  calling 
out,  "  You  are  a  traitress !"  while  Vittoria  stood  before 
the  seats.  She  became  pale,  and  her  eyelids  closed.  No 
thinness  was  subsequently  heard  in  her  voice.  The  man 
was  caught  as  he  strove  to  burst  through  the  crowd  at  the 
entrance-door,  and  proved  to  be  a  petty  bookseller  of 
Milan,  by  name  Sarpo,  known  as  an  orderly  citizen.  When 
taken  he  was  inflamed  with  liquor.  Next  day  the  man  was 
handed  from  the  civil  to  the  military  authorities,  he  having 
confessed  to  the  existence  of  a  plot  in  the  city.  Pericles 
came  fuming  to  Wilfrid's  quarters.  Wilfrid  gathered  from 
him  that  Sarpo's  general  confession  had  been  retracted  :  it 
was  too  foolish  to  snare  the  credulity  of  Austrian  official  a 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  431 

iSarpo  stated  that  he  had  fabricated  the  story  of  a  plot,  in 
order  to  escajoe  the  persecutions  of"  a  terrible  man,  and  find 
safety  in  prison  lodgings  under  Government.  The  short  con- 
finement for  a  civic  offence  was  not  his  idea  of  safety;  he 
desii-ed  to  be  sheltered  by  Austrian  soldiers  and  a  fortress, 
and  said  that  his  torments  were  insupportable  while  Barto 
E-izzo  was  at  large.  This  infamous  republican  had  latterly 
been  living  in  his  house,  eating  his  bread,  and  threatening 
death  to  him  unless  he  obeyed  every  command.  Sarpo  had 
undertaken  his  last  mission  for  the  purpose  of  supplying  his 
lack  of  resolution  to  release  himself  from  his  horrible  ser- 
vitude by  any  other  means ;  not  from  personal  animosity 
toward  the  Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani,  known  as  la 
Vittoria.  When  seized,  fear  had  urged  him  to  escape. 
Such  was  his  second  story.  The  points  seemed  irreconcile- 
able  to  those  who  were  not  in  the  habit  of  taking  human 
nature  into  their  calculations  of  a  possible  course  of  conduct; 
even  Wilfrid,  though  he  was  aware  that  Barto  Rizzo  hated 
Vittoria  inveterately,  imagined  Sarpo's  first  lie  to  have 
necessarily  fathered  a  second.  But  the  second  story  was 
true  :  and  the  something  like  lover's  wrath  with  which  the 
outi-age  to  Vittoria  fired  Pericles,  prompted  him  to  act  on  it 
as  truth.  He  told  Wilfrid  that  he  should  summon  Barto 
Rizzo  to  his  presence.  As  the  Government  was  unable  to 
exhibit  so  much  power,  Wilfrid  looked  sarcastic ;  where- 
upon Pericles  threw  up  his  chin  crying :  "  Oh  !  you  shall 
know  my  resources.  Now,  my  friend,  one  bit  of  paper,  and 
a  messenger,  and  then  home  to  my  house,  to  Tokay  and 
cigarettes,  and  w^ait  to  see."  He  remarked  after  pencilling 
a  few  lines,  "  Countess  d'Isorella  is  her  enemy  ?  hein  !" 

"  Why,  you  wouldn't  listen  to  me  when  I  told  you,"  said 
Wilfrid. 

"  No,"  Pericles  replied  while  writing  and  humming  over  his 
pencil ;  "my  ear  is  a  pelican-pouch,  my  friend  ;  it — and  Irmais 
her  enemy  also  ? — it  takes  and  keei:)s,  but  does  not  swallow  till 
it  wants.  I  shall  hear  you,  and  I  shall  hear  my  Sandra  Vit- 
toria, and  I  shall  not  know  you  have  spoken,  when  by-and-by 
'  tinkle,  tinkle,'  a  bell  of  my  brain,  and  your  word  walks  in, — 
'  quite  well  ?' — '  very  well !' — '  sit  down ' — '  if  it  is  ze  same  to 
you,  I  prefer  to  stand' — 'good;  zen  I  examine  you.'  My 
motto: — '  Time  opens  ze  gates  :'  my  system  : — it  is  your  doctor 
of  regiment's  system  when  your  twelve,  fifteen,  forty  reci'uits 


432  VITTORIA. 


» 


strip  to  him  : — '  Ah  !  you,  my  man,  have  varicose  vein  :  no 
soldier  in  our  regiment,  you  !'  So  on.  Perhaps  I  am  not 
intelligible  ;  but,  hear  zis.  I  speak  not  often  of  my  money  ; 
but  I  say — it  is  in  your  ear — a  man  of  millions,  he  is  a 
king !"  The  Greek  jumped  up  and  folded  a  couple  of  notes. 
"  I  will  not  have  her  disturbed.  Let  her  sing  now  and  a 
while  to  Pericles  and  his  public :  and  to  ze  Londoners,  wiz 
your  permission.  Count  Ammiani,  one  saison.  I  ask  no  more, 
and  I  am  satisfied,  and  I  endow  your  oldest  child,  signer 
Conte — it  is  said !  For  its  mama  was  a  good  girl,  a  brave 
girl ;  she  troubled  Pericles,  because  he  is  an  intellect ;  but 
he  forgives  when  he  sees  sincerity — rare  zing !  Sincerity 
and  genius  :  it  may  be  zey  are  as  man  and  wife  in  a  bosom. 
He  forgives  ;  it  is  not  onnly  voice  he  craves,  but  a  soul,  and 
Sandra,  your  countess,  she  has  a  soul — I  am  not  a  Turk. 
I  say,  it  is  a  woman  in  whom  a  girl  I  did  see  a  soul !  A 
woman  when  she  is  married,  she  is  part  of  ze  man ;  but  a 
soul,  it  is  for  ever  alone,  apart,  confounded  wiz  nobody ! 
For  it  I  followed  Sandra,  your  countess.  It  was  a  sublime 
devotion  of  a  dog.  Her  voice  tsrilled,  her  soul  possessed  me. 
Your  countess  is  my  Sandra  still.  I  shall  be  pleased  if 
child-bearing  trouble  her  not  more  zan  a  very  little  ;  but, 
enfin !  she  is  married,  and  you  and  I,  my  friend  Wilfrid,  we 
must  accept  ze  decree,  and  say,  no  harm  to  her  out  of  ze  way 
of  nature,  by  Saint  Nicolas !  or  any  what  saint  you  choose 
for  your  invocation.  Come  along.  And  speed  my  letters  by 
one  of  your  militaires  at  once  off.  Are  Pericles'  millions 
gold  of  bad  mint  ?  If  so,  he  is  an  incapable.  He  presumes 
it  is  not  so.  Come  along  ;  we  will  drink  to  her  in  essence 
of  Tokay.     You  shall  witness  two  scenes.     Away !" 

Wilfrid  was  barely  to  be  roused  from  his  fit  of  brooding 
into  which  Pericles  had  thrown  him.  He  sent  the  letters, 
and  begged  to  be  left  to  sleep.  The  image  of  Vittoria  seen 
through  this  man's  mind  was  new,  and  brought  a  new  round 
of  torments.  "  The  devil  take  you,"  he  cried  when  Pericles 
plucked  at  his  arm,  "I've  sent  the  letters;  isn't  that 
enough  ?"  He  was  bitterly  jealous  of  the  Greek's  philo- 
sophic review  of  the  conditions  of  Vittoria's  marriage  ;  for 
when  he  had  come  away  from  the  concert,  not  a  thought  of 
her  being  a  wife  had  clouded  his  resignation  to  the  fact. 
He  went  with  Pericles,  nevertheless,  and  was  compelled  to 
acknowledge  the  kindling  powers  of  the  essence  of  Tokay. 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  433 

* 

•'Where  do  you  get  this  stuff?"  he  asked  several  times. 
Pericles  chattered  of  England,  and  Hagar's  '  Addio,'  and 
'  Camilla.'  What  cabinet  opei-as  would  he  not  give ! 
What  entertainments  !  Could  an  emperor  offer  such  festivi- 
ties to  his  subjects  ?  Was  a  Field  Review  equal  to  Vit- 
toria's  voice  ?  He  stung  Wilfrid's  ears  by  insisting  on  the 
mellowed  depth,  the  soft  human  warmth,  which  mari'iage 
had  lent  to  the  voice.  At  a  late  hour  his  valet  announced 
Countess  d'Isorella.  "  Did  I  not  say  so  ?  "  cried  Pericles, 
and  corrected  himself :  "  No,  I  did  not  say  so ;  it  was  a  sur- 
prise to  you,  my  friend.  You  shall  see ;  you  shall  hear. 
Now  you  shall  see  what  a  friend  Pericles  can  be  when  a 
person  satisfy  him."  He  pushed  Wilfrid  into  his  dressing- 
room,  and  immediately  received  the  coun  es=f  with  an  out- 
burst of  brutal  invectives — pulling  her  ip  and  down  the 
ranked  regiment  of  her  misdeeds,  as  it  were.  She  tried 
dignity,  tried  anger,  she  affected  amazement,  she  petitioned 
for  the  heads  of  his  accusations,  and,  as  nothing  stopped 
him,  she  turned  to  go.  Pericles  laughed  when  she  had  left 
the  room.  Irma  di  Karski  was  announced  the  next  minute, 
and  Countess  d'Isorella  re-appeared  beside  her.  Irma  had  a 
similar  greeting.  "  I  am  lost,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Yes,  you 
are  lost,"  said  Pericles;  "  a  word  from  me,  and  the  back  of 
the  public  is  humped  at  you — ha  !  contessa,  you  touched 
Mdlle.  Irma's  hand  ?  She  is  to  be  on  her  guard,  and 
never  to  think  she  is  lost  till  down  she  goes  ?  You  are  a 
more  experienced  woman  !  I  tell  you  I  will  have  no  non- 
sense. I  am  Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani's  friend.  You 
two,  you  women,  are  her  enemies.  I  will  ruin  you  both. 
You  would  prevent  her  singing  in  public  places — you, 
Countess  d'Isorella,  because  you  do  not  forgive  her  marriage 
to  Count  Ammiani ;  you,  Irma,  to  spite  her  for  her  voice. 
You  would  hiss  her  out  of  heai-ing,  you  two  miserable 
creatures.  Not  another  soldo  for  you  !  Not  one  !  and  to- 
mfUTow,  countess,  I  will  see  my  lawyer.  Irma,  begone,  and 
shriek  to  your  wardrobe !  Countess  d'Isorella,  I  have  the 
extreme  honour." 

Wilfrid  marvelled  to  hear  this  titled  and  lovely  woman, 
speaking  almost  in  tones  of  humility  in  reply  to  such  out- 
rageous insolence.  She  craved  a  private  interview.  Irma 
was  temporarily  expelled,  and  then  Violetta  stooped  to  ask 
what  the  Gi'cck's  reason  for  his  behaviour  could  be.     She 

2f 


434  VITTOKIA. 

arlmifcted  that  it  "v\ ns  in  liis  power  to  min  Tier,  as  far  aa 
money  went.  "  IViliaps  a  little  farther,"  said  Pericles  ; 
"  say  two  steps.  If  one  is  on  a  precipice,  two  steps  count 
for  something."  But,  what  had  she  done  ?  Pericles 
refused  to  declare  it.  This  set  her  guessing  with  a  charming 
naivete.  Pericles  called  Irma  back  to  assist  her  in  the  task, 
and  quitted  them  that  they  might  consult  together  and  hit 
upon  the  right  thing.  His  object  was  to  send  his  valet  for 
Luigi  Saracco.  He  had  seen  that  no  truth  could  be 
extracted  from  these  women,  save  forcibly.  Unaware  that 
he  had  gone  out,  Wilfrid  listened  long  enough  to  hear  Irma 
say,  between  sobs :  "  Oh  !  I  shall  throw  myself  upon  his 
mercy.  Oh,  Countess  d'Isorella,  why  did  you  lead  me  to 
think  of  vengeance !  I  am  lost !  He  knows  everything. 
Oh,  what  is  it  to  me  whether  she  lives  with  her  husband ! 
Let  them  go  on  plotting.  I  am  not  the  Government.  I  am 
sure  I  don't  much  dislike  her.  Yes,  I  hate  her,  but  why 
should  I  hurt  myself  ?  She  will  wear  those  jewels  on  her 
forehead ;  she  will  wear  that  necklace  with  the  big 
amethysts,  and  pretend  she's  humble  because  she  doesn't 
carry  earrings,  when  her  ears  have  never  been  pierced !  I 
am  lost !  Yes,  you  may  say,  look  up  !  I  am  only  a  poor 
singer,  and  he  can  ruin  me.  Oh  !  Countess  d'Isorella,  oh  ! 
what  a  fearful  punishment.  If  Countess  Anna  should 
betray  Count  Ammiani  to-night,  nothing,  nothing,  will  save 
me.  I  will  confess.  Let  us  both  be  beforehand  with  her — 
or  you,  it  does  not  matter  for  a  noble  lady." 

"  Hush !"  said  Violetta.  "What  dreadful  fool  is  this  I 
sit  with  ?  You  may  have  done  what  you  think  of  doing 
already." 

She  walked  to  the  staircase  door,  and  to  that  of  the  suite. 
An  honourable  sentiment,  conjoined  to  the  knowledge  that 
he  had  heard  sufficient,  induced  Wilfrid  to  pass  on  into  the 
sleeping  apartment  a  moment  or  so  before  Violetta  took  this 
precaution.  The  potent  liquor  of  Pericles  had  deprived  him 
of  consecutive  ideas  ;  he  sat  nui-sing  a  thunder  in  his  head, 
imagining  it  to  be  profound  thought,  till  Peiicles  flung  the 
door  ojien.  Violetta  and  Irma  had  departed.  "  Behold  !  I 
have  it ;  ze  address  of  your  rogue  Barto  Rizzo,"  said 
Pericles,  in  the  manner  of  one  whose  triumph  is  absolutely 
due  to  his  own  shrewdness.  "  Are  two  women  a  match  for 
lue  ?     Now,  my  friend,  you  shall  see.     Barto  Hizzo  is  too 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  435 

clever  for  zis  srovernment,  which  cannot  catch  him.  I  catch 
him,  and  I  teach  him  he  may  touch  i>olitics — it  is  not  for 
him  to  touch  Art.  What !  to  hound  men  to  interrupt  her 
while  she  sings  in  public  places  ?  "What  next !  But  I  knew 
my  Countess  d'Isorella  could  help  me,  and  so  I  sent  for  her 
to  confront  Irma,  and  dare  to  say  she  knew  not  Barto's 
dwelling — and  why  ?  I  will  tell  you  a  secret.  A  long.flat- 
tered  woman,  my  friend,  she  has  had,  you  will  think,  enough 
of  it ;  no  !  she  is  like  avarice.  If  it  is  worship  of  swine,  she 
cannot  refuse  it.  Barto  Rizzo  worships  her;  so  it  is  a 
deduction — she  knows  his  abode — I  act  upon  that,  and  I 
arrive  at  my  end.     I  now  send  him  to  ze  devil." 

Barto  Rizzo,  after  having  evaded  the  polizia  of  the  city 
during  a  three  months'  steady  chase,  was  elfectually  cap- 
tured on  the  doorstep  of  Vittoria's  house  in  the  Corso 
Francesco,  by  gendarmes  whom  Pericles  had  set  on  his 
track.  A  day  later  Vittoria  was  stabbed  at  about  the  same 
hour,  on  the  same  spot.  A  woman  dealt  the  blow.  Vittoria 
was  returning  from  an  afternoon  drive  with  Laura  Piaveni 
and  the  children.  She  saw  a  woman  seated  on  the  steps  as 
beggarwomen  sit,  face  in  lap.  Anxious  to  shield  her  from 
the  lacquey,  she  sent  the  two  little  ones  up  to  her  with 
small  bits  of  money.  But,  as  the  woman  would  not  lift  her 
head,  she  and  Laura  prepared  to  pass  her,  Laura  coming 
last.  The  blow,  like  all  such  unexpected  incidents,  had  the 
effect  of  lightning  on  those  present ;  the  woman  might  have 
escaped,  but  after  she  had  struck  she  sat  down  impassive  as 
a  cat  by  the  hearth,  with  a  round-eyed  stare. 

The  news  that  Yittoria  had  been  assassinated  traversed 
the  city.  Carlo  was  in  Turin,  IMerthyr  in  Rome.  Pericles 
was  one  of  the  first  who  reached  the  house  ;  he  was  coming 
out  when  Wilfrid  and  the  Duchess  of  Graiitli  drove  up  ;  and 
he  accused  the  Countess  d'Lsorella  flatly  of  having  instigated 
the  murder.  He  was  frantic.  They  supposed  that  she  must 
have  succumbed  to  the  wound.  The  duchess  sent  for  Laura. 
There  was  a  press  of  carnages  and  soft-humming  people  in 
the  street ;  many  women  and  men  sobbing.  Wilfrid  had  to 
wait  an  hour  for  the  duchess,  who  brought  comfort  when 
she  came.  Her  first  words  were  reassuring.  "Ah!"  she 
said,  "  did  T  not  do  well  to  make  you  drive  here  with  me 
instead  of  with  Lena  ?  Those  ejes  of  yours  would  be  un- 
pardonable to   her.      Yes,   indeed;   though   a  corpse   wera 

2f2 


436  VITTOKIA. 

lying  in  thig  house :  but  Countess  Alessandra  is  safe.  I  have 
Been  her.     I  have  held  her  hand." 

Wilfrid  kissed  the  duchess's  hand  passionately. 

What  she  had  said  of  Lena  was  true :  Lena  could  only  be 
generous  upon  the  after-thought ;  and  when  the  duchess 
drove  Wilfrid  back  to  her,  he  had  to  submit  to  hear  scorn 
and  indignation  against  all  Italians,  who  were  denounced  as 
cut-throats,  and  worse  and  worse  and  worse,  males  and 
females  alike.  This  was  grounded  on  her  sympathy  for 
Vittoria.  But  Wilfrid  now  felt  toward  the  Italians  through 
his  remembrance  of  that  devoted  soul's  love  of  them,  and 
with  one  direct  look  he  bade  his  betrothed  good-bye,  and 
they  parted. 

It  was  in  the  early  days  of  March  that  Merthyr,  then 
among  the  Republicans  of  Rome,  heard  from  Laura  Piaveni. 
Two  letters  reached  him,  one  telling  of  the  attempted  assas- 
sination, and  a  second  explaining  circr.mstances  connected 
with  it.  The  first  summoned  him  to  Milan  ;  the  other  left 
it  to  his  option  to  make  the  journey.  He  started,  carrying 
kind  messages  from  the  Chief  to  Vittoria,  and  from  Luciano 
Romara  the  oft'er  of  a  renewal  of  old  friendship  to  Count 
Ammiani.  His  political  object  was  to  persuade  the  Lom- 
bard youth  to  turn  their  whole  strength  upon  Rome.  The 
desire  of  his  heart  was  again  to  see  her,  who  had  been  so 
neai'ly  lost  to  all  eyes  for  ever. 

Laura's  first  letter  stated  brief  facts.  "  She  was  stabbed 
this  afternoon,  at  half-past  two,  on  the  steps  of  her  house, 
by  a  woman  called  the  wife  of  Barto  Rizzo.  She  caught 
her  hands  up  under  her  throat  when  she  saw  the  dagger. 
Her  right  arm  was  penetrated  just  above  the  wrist,  and 
half  an  inch  in  the  left  breast,  close  to  the  centre  bone.  She 
behaved  firmly.  The  assassin  only  struck  once.  No  visible 
danger ;  but  you  should  come,  if  you  have  no  serious  work." 

"  Happily,"  ran  the  subsequent  letter,  of  two  days'  later 
date,  "  the  assassin  was  a  woman,  and  one  effort  exhausts 
a  woman  ;  she  struck  only  once,  and  became  idiotic.  Sandra 
has  no  fever.  She  had  her  wits  ready — where  were  mine  ? 
- — when  she  received  the  wound.  While  I  had  her  in  my 
arms,  she  gave  orders  that  the  woman  should  be  driven  out 
of  the  city  in  her  carriage.  The  Greek,  her  mad  musical 
adorer,  accuses  Countess  d'Isorella.  Carlo  has  seen  this 
person — returns  convinced  of  her  innocence.     That  is  not 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER.  437 

an  accepted  proof ;  but  we  have  one.  It  seems  tliat  Rizzo 
(Sandra  was  secret  about  it  and  about  one  or  two  other 
things)  sent  to  her  commanding  her  to  appoint  an  hour — 
detestable  style  !  I  can  see  it  now  ;  I  fear  these  conspiracies 
no  longer: — she  did  appoint  an  hour  ;  and  was  awaiting  him 
when  the  gendarmes  sprang  on  the  man  at  her  door.  Ho 
had  evaded  them  several  weeks,  so  we  are  to  fancy  that  his 
wife  charged  Countess  Alessandra  with  the  betrayal.  This 
appears  a  reasonable  and  simple  way  of  accounting  for  the 
deed.  So  I  only  partly  give  ci'edit  to  it.  But  it  may  be 
true. 

"  The  wound  has  not  produced  a  shock  to  her  system — 
very  very  fortunately.  On  the  whole,  a  better  thing  could 
not  have  happened.  Should  I  be  more  explicit  ?  Yes,  to 
you  ;  for  you  are  not  of  those  who  see  too  much  in  what  is 
barely  said.  The  wound,  then,  my  dear  good  friend,  has 
healed  another  wound,  of  which  I  knew  nothing.  Bergamasc 
and  Brescian  friends  of  her  husband's,  have  imagined  that 
she  interrupted  or  diverted  his  studies.  He  also  discovered 
that  she  had  an  opinion  of  her  own,  and  sometimes  he  con- 
sulted it ;  but  alas  !  they  are  lovers,  and  he  knew  not  when 
love  listened,  or  she  when  love  spoke ;  and  there  was  grave 
business  to  be  done  meanwhile.  Can  you  kindly  allow  that 
the  case  was  open  to  a  little  confusion  ?  I  know  that  you 
will.  He  had  to  hear  many  violent  reproaches  from  his 
fellow-students.  These  have  ceased.  1  send  this  letter  on 
the  chance  of  the  first  being  lost  on  the  road ;  and  it  will 
supplement  the  first  pleasantly  to  you  in  any  event.  She 
lies  here  in  the  room  where  I  write,  propped  on  high  pillows, 
the  right  arm  bound  up,  and  says  :  '  Tell  Merthyr  I  prayed 
to  be  in  Rome  with  my  husband,  and  him,  and  the  Chief. 
Tell  him  I  love  my  friend.     Tell  him  I  think  he  deserves  to 

be  in  Rome.      Tell   him Enter  Countess  Ammiani   to 

reprove  her  for  endangering  the  hopes  of  the  house  by 
fatiguing  herself.  Sandra  sends  a  blush  at  me,  and  I  smile, 
and  the  countess  kisses  her.  I  send  you  a  literal  transcript 
of  one  short  scene,  so  that  you  may  feel  at  home  with  us. 

"  There  is  a  place  called  Venice,  and  there  is  a  place 
called  Rome,  and  both  places  are  pretty  places  and  famous 
places;  and  there  is  a  thing  called  the  fashion;  and  these 
pretty  places  and  famous  places  set  the  fashion  :  and  there 
is  a  place  called  Milan,  and  a  place  called  Bergamo,  and  a 


438  VITTORIA. 

place  called  Brescia,  and  they  all  want  to  follow  the  fashion, 
for  they  are  giddy-pated  baggages.  What  is  the  fashion, 
mama  ?  The  fashion,  my  dear,  is  &c.  &c.  &c. : — Extract  of 
lecture  to  my  little  daughter,  Amalia,  who  says  she  forgets 
you ;  but  Griacomo  sends  his  manly  love.  Oh,  good  God ! 
should  I  have  blood  in  my  lips  when  I  kissed  him,  if  I  knew 
that  he  was  old  enough  to  go  out  with  a  sword  in  his  hand  a 
week  hence  ?  I  seem  everj  day  to  be  growing  more  and 
more  all  mother.  This  month  in  front  of  us  is  full  of  thunder. 
Addio!" 

When   Merthyr   stood   in  sight  of   Milan  an   army  was 
issuing  from  the  gates. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  INTERVIEW. 


MKnTHTR  saw  Laura  first.  He  thought  that  Yittoria  must 
be  lying  on  her  couch :  but  Laura  simply  figured  her  arm  in 
a  sling,  and  signified,  more  than  said,  that  Vittoria  was  well 
and  taking  the  air.  She  then  begged  hungrily  for  news  of 
Rome,  and  again  of  Rome,  and  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  in 
her  lap  to  listen.  She  mentioned  Venice  in  a  short  breath 
of  praise,  as  if  her  spirit  could  not  repose  there.  Rome,  its 
hospitals,  its  municipal  arrangements,  the  names  of  the 
triumvirs,  the  prospects  of  the  city,  the  edicts,  the  aspects 
of  tbe  streets,  the  popularity  of  the  Government,  the  number 
of  volunteers  ranked  under  the  magical  Republic — of  these 
things  Merthyr  talked,  at  her  continual  instigation,  till, 
stopping  abruptly,  he  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  divert  him 
from  any  painful  subject.  "  No,  no  !"  she  cried,  "  it's  only 
that  I  want  to  feel  an  anchor.  We  are  all  adrift.  Sandra 
is  in  perfect  health.  Our  bodies,  dear  Merthyr,  are  enjoying 
the  perfection  of  comfort.  Nothing  is  done  here  except  to 
keep  us  from  boiling  over." 

"  Why  does  not   Count  Ammiani  coine  to  Rome  ?"  said 
Merthyr. 

"Why  are  we  not  all  in  Rome  ?     Yes,  why !  why  !     We 
should  make  a  carnival  of  our  own  if  we  were.' 


THE  INTERVIEW.  439 

"  She  wonld  have  escaped  that  horrible  knife,"  Merthyr 
sighed. 

"  Yes,  she  wonld  have  escaped  that  horrible  knife.  But 
see  the  difference  between  Milan  and  Rome,  my  friend  !  Ifc 
Tvas  a  blessed  knife  here.  It  has  given  her  husband  back  to 
her ;  it  has  destroyed  the  intrigues  against  her.  It  seems 
to  have  been  sent — I  was  kneeling  in  the  cathedral  this 
morning,  and  had  the  very  image  crossing  my  eyes — from 
the  saints  of  heaven  to  cut  the  black  knot.  Perhaps  it  may 
be  the  means  of  sending  us  to  Rome." 

Laura  paused,  and,  looking  at  him,  said,  "  It  is  so  utterly 
impossible  for  us  women  to  comprehend  love  without  folly 
in  a  man ;  the  trait  by  which  we  recognize  it  !  Merthyr,  you 
dear  Englishman,  you  shall  know  everything.  Do  we  not 
think  a  tisane  a  weak  washy  drink,  when  we  are  strong? 
But  we  learn,  when  we  lie  with  our  chins  up,  and  our  tea 
toes  like  stopped  organ-])ipes — as  Sandra  says — we  learn 
then  that  it  means  fresh  health  and  activity,  and  is  better 
than  rivers  of  your  fiery  wines.  You  love  her,  do  you 
not?" 

The  question  came  with  great  simplicity. 
"  If  I  can  give  a  proof  of  it,  I  am  ready  to  answer,"  said 
Merthyr,  in  some  surprise. 

"  Your  whole  life  is  the  proof  of  it.     The  women  of  your 
country  are  intolerable  to  me,  Merthyr :  but  I  do  see  the 
worth  of  the  men.     Sandra  has  taught  me.     She  can  think 
of  you,   talk  of  you,  kiss  the  vision  of  you,  and  still  be  a 
faithful  woman  in  our  bondage  of  flesh ;  and  to  us  you  know 
what  a  bondage  it  is.     How  can  that  be  ?     I   should  have 
asked,  if  I  had  not  seen  it.     Dearest,  she  loves  her  husband, 
and  she  loves  you.     She  has  two  husbands,  and  she  turns  to 
the  husband  of  her  spirit  when  that,  or  any,  dagger  strikes 
her  bosom.     Carlo  has  an  unripe  mind.     They  have  been 
married  but  a  little  more  than  four  months ;  and  he  reveres 
her  and  loves  her."   ....  Laura's  voice  dragged.    "Multiply 
the  months  by  thousands,  we  shall  not  make  those  two  lives 
one.     It  is  the  curse  of  mon's  education  in  Italy  ?      Ho  can 
see  that   she  has  wits  and  courage.     He  will  not  consent  to 
make  use  of  them.     You  know  her  :  she  is  not  one  to  talk  of 
these  things.     She,  who  has  both  licai-t  and  judgement — she 
is  merely  a  little  boat  tied  to  a  big  ship.     Such  is  their  mar- 
riage.    SLo  cannot  influence  him.      She  is  not  allowed  to 


o 


440  VITTOEIA. 

advise  liim.     And  slie  is  the  one  who  should  load  the  way. 
And  if  she  did,  we  should  now  be  within  sight  of  the  City." 

Laura  took  his  hand.  She  found  it  moist,  though  his  face 
was  calm  and  his  chest  heaved  regularly.  An  impish  form 
of  the  pity  women  feel  for  us  at  times  moved  hcir  to  say, 
"  Your  skin  is  as  bronzed  as  it  was  last  year.  Sandra  spoke 
of  it.  She  compared  it  to  a  young  vine-leaf.  I  wonder 
whether  girls  have  really  an  admonition  of  what  is  good 
for  them  while  they  are  going  their  ways  like  destined 
machines  ?" 

'•  Almost  all  men  are  of  flesh  an  d  blood,"  said  Merthyr 
softly. 

"  I  spoke  of  girls." 

"  I  speak  of  men." 

"  Blunt-wit  ted  that  I  am!  Of  course  you  did.  But  do 
not  imagine  that  she  is  not  happy  with  her  husband.  They 
are  united  firmly." 

"  The  better  for  her,  and  him,  and  me,"  said  Merthyr. 

Laura  twisted  an  end  of  her  scarf  with  fretful  fingers. 
"  Carlo  Albert  has  crossed  the  Ticino  ?" 

"  Is  about  to  do  so,"  Merthyr  rejoined. 

"  Will  Rome  hold  on  if  he  is  defeated  ?" 

"  Rome  has  nothing  to  fear  on  that  side." 

"But  you  do  not  speak  hopefully  of  Rome." 

"  I  suppose  I  am  thinking  of  other  matters." 

"  You  confess  it !" 

The  random  conversation  wearied  him.  His  foot  tapped 
the  floor. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Verily,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  I  have  a  wicked 
curiosity,  and  that  you  come  from  Rome,"  said  Laura,  now 
perfectly  frank,  and  believing  that  she  had  explained  hei 
enigmatical  talk,  if  she  had  not  furnished  an  excuse  for  it 
Merthyr  came  fiom  the  City  which  was  now  encircled  by  an 
irradiating  halo  in  her  imagination,  and  a  fit  of  spontaneous 
inexplicable  feminine  tenderness  being  upon  her  at  the  mo- 
ment of  their  meeting,  she  found  herself  on  a  sudden  prompted 
to  touch  and  probe  and  brood  voluptuously  over  an  unfor- 
tunate lover's  feelings,  supposing  that  they  existed.  For 
the  glory  of  Rome  was  on  him,  and  she  was  at  the  same  time 
angry  with  Carlo  Ammiani.  It  was  the  form  of  passion  her 
dedicated  widowhood  could  still  be  subject  to  in  its  youth ; 


THE  INTERVIEW.  441 

tlie  sole  one.     By  this  chance  Merthyr  leamt  what  nothing 
else  would  have  told  him. 

Her  tale  of  the  attempted  assassination  was  related  with 
palpable  indifference.  She  stated  the  facts.  "  The  woman 
seemed  to  gasp  while  she  had  her  hand  up ;  she  struck  with 
no  force ;  and  she  has  since  been  inanimate,  I  hear.  The 
doctor  says  that  a  spasm  of  the  heart  seized  her  when  she 
was  about  to  strike.  It  has  been  shaken — I  am  not  sure  that 
he  does  not  say  displaced,  or  unseated — by  some  one  of  her 
black  tempers.  She  shot  Rinaldo  Guidascarpi  dead.  Per- 
haps it  was  that.  I  am  informed  that  she  worshipped  the 
poor  boy,  and  has  been  like  a  trapped  she-wolf  since  she  did 
it.  In  some  way  she  associated  our  darling  with  Rinaldo 's 
death,  like  the  brute  she  is.  The  ostensible  ground  for  her 
futile  bit  of  devilishness  was  that  she  fancied  Sandra  to  have 
betrayed  Barto  Rizzo,  her  husband,  into  the  hands  of  the 
polizia.  He  v?i-ote  to  the  Countess  Alessandra — such  a  letter! 
— a  curiosity ! — he  must  see  her  and  cross-examine  her  to 
satisfy  himself  that  she  was  a  true  patriot,  &c.  You  know  the 
style :  we  neither  of  us  like  it.  Sandra  was  waiting  to  receive 
him  when  they  pounced  on  him  by  the  door.  Next  day  the 
woman  struck  at  her.  Decidedlya  handsome  woman.  She  is  the 
exact  contrast  to  the  Countess  Violetta  in  face,  in  everything. 
Heart-disease  will  certainly  never  affect  that  pretty  spy !  But, 
mark,"  pursued  Laura,  warming,  "when  Carlo  ari-ived,  tears, 
penitence,  heaps  of  self-accusations :  he  had  been  unkind  to 
her  even  on  Lake  Orta,  where  they  passed  their  golden 
month ;  he  had  neglected  her  at  Turin  ;  he  had  spoken 
angry  words  in  Milan ;  in  fact,  he  had  misused  his  ti-easurc, 
and  begged  pardon; — 'If  you  please,  my  poor  bleeding 
angel,  I  am  sorry.  But  do  not,  I  entreat,  distract  me  with 
petitions  of  any  sort,  though  I  will  perform  anything  eartlil}'' 
to  satisfy  you.  Be  a  good  little  boat  in  the  wake  of  the  big 
ship.  I  will  look  over  at  you,  and  chirrup  now  and  then  to 
you,  my  dearest,  when  I  am  not  engaged  in  piloting  extra- 
ordinary.'— Very  well ;  I  do  not  mean  to  sneer  at  the 
unhappy  boy,  Merthyr;  I  love  him;  he  was  my  husband's 
brother-in-arms ;  the  sweetest  lad  ever  seen.  He  is  in  the 
season  of  faults.  He  must  command  ;  he  must  be  a  chief ; 
he  fancies  he  can  intrigue— poor  thing  !  It  will  pass.  And 
so  will  the  hour  to  be  forward  to  Rome.  But  I  call  your 
attention  to  this  :  when  he  heard  of  the  dagger — I  have  ifc 


442 


VITTORIA 


from  Colonel  Corte,  who  was  with  him  at  the  time  in  Turin 
— he  cried  out  Violetta  d'Isorella's  name.  Why?  After 
he  had  buried  his  head  an  hour  on  Sandra's  pillow,  he  went 
straight  to  Countess  d'Isorella,  and  was  absent  till  night. 
The  woman  is  hideous  to  me.  No;  don't  conceive  that  I 
think  her  Sandra's  rival.  She  is  too  jealous.  She  has  him 
in  some  web.  If  she  has  not  ruined  him,  she  will.  She 
was  under  my  eyes  the  night  she  heard  of  his  marriage :  I 
saw  how  she  will  look  at  seventy !  Here  is  Carlo  at  the 
head  of  a  plot  she  has  prepared  for  him ;  and  he  has  A  ngelo 
Guidascarpi,  and  Ugo  Corte,  Marco  Sana,  Giulio  Bandinelli, 
and  about  fifty  others.     They  have  all  been  kept  away  from 

Rome  by  that  detestable you  object  to  hear  bad  names 

cast  on  women,  Mei-thyr.  Hear  Agostino !  The  poor  old 
man  comes  daily  to  this  house  to  persuade  Carlo  to  lead  his 
band  to  Rome.  It  is  so  clearly  Rome — Rome,  where  all  his 
comrades  are  ;  where  the  chief  stand  must  be  made  by  the 
side  of  Italy's  Chief.  Worst  sign  of  all,  it  has  been  hinted 
semi-ofiicially  to  Carlo  that  he  may  upon  application  be 
permitted  to  re-issue  his  journal.  Does  not  that  show  that 
the  Government  wishes  to  blindfold  him,  and  keep  him 
here,  and  knows  his  plans  ?" 

Laura  started  np  as  the  door  opened,  and  Vittoi-ia 
appeared  leaning  upon  Carlo's  arm.  Countess  Ammiani, 
Countess  d'Isorella,  and  Pericles  were  behind  them.  Laura's 
children  followed. 

When  Merthyr  rose,  Vittoria  was  smiling  in  Carlo's  face 
at  something  that  had  been  spoken.  She  was  pale,  and  her 
arm  was  in  a  sling,  but  there  was  no  appearance  of  her 
being  unnerved.  Merthyr  waited  for  her  recognition  of 
him.  She  turned  her  eyes  from  Carlo  slowly.  The  soft 
dull  smile  in  them  died  out  as  it  were  with  a  throb,  and  then 
her  head  drooped  on  one  shoulder,  and  she  sank  to  the 
floor. 


THE  SHADOW  OP  CONSPIRACY.  443 

CHAPTER  XLn. 

THE  SHADOAV  OP  COXSPIRACY. 

Merthtr  left  tlie  house  at  Laura's  whispered  sng-gestion. 
He  was  agitated  beyond  control,  for  Vittoria  had  fallen 
with  her  eyes  fixed  on  him  ;  and  at  times  the  picture  of  his 
beloved,  her  husband,  and  Countess  Ammiani,  and  the 
children  bending  over  her  still  body,  swam  before  him  like 
a  dark  altar-piece  floating  in  incense,  so  lost  was  he  to  the 
reality  of  that  scene.  He  did  not  hear  Beppo,  his  old  ser- 
vant, at  his  heels.  After  awhile  ho  walked  calmly,  and 
Beppo  came  up  beside  him.     Merthyr  shook  his  hand. 

"Ah,  Signor  Mertyrio  !  ah,  padrone  !"  said  Beppo. 

Merthyr  directed  his  observation  to  a  regiment  of  Aus- 
trians  marching  doviTi  the  Corso  Venezia  to  the  Ticinese 
gate. 

"  Tes,  they  are  ready  enough  for  us,"  Beppo  remarked. 
"  Perhaps  Carlo  Alberto  will  beat  them  this  time.  If  he 
does,  viva  to  him!     If  they   beat  him,  down  goes   another 

V^enetian  pyramid.     The  Countess  Alessandra "  Beppo's 

speech  failed. 

"  What  of  your  mistress  ?  "  said  Merthyr. 

"  When  she  dies,  my  dear  master,  there's  no  one  for  me 
but  the  Madonna  to  serve." 

"  Why  should  she  die,  silly  fellow  ?  " 

"  Because  she  never  cries." 

Merthyr  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "  Why  should  she 
cry  ?  "  His  heart  was  too  full,  and  ho  shrank  from  inquisi- 
tive shadows  of  the  thing  known  to  him. 

"  Sit  down  at  this  cafEe  with  me,"  he  said.  "  It's  fine 
weather  for  March.  The  troops  will  camp  comfortably. 
Those  Hungarians  never  require  tents.  Did  you  see  much 
sacking  of  villages  last  year  ?  " 

"  Padrone,  the  Imperial  command  is  always  to  spare  the 
villages." 

"  That's  humane." 

"  Padrone,  yes  ;  if  policy  is  humanity." 
"  It's  humanity  not  carried  quite  as  far  as  we  should  wish 
it." 


444  VITTORIA. 

Beppo  shrugged  and  said :  "  It  won't  leave  much  upon  the 
conscience  if  we  kill  them." 

"  Do  you  expect  a  rising  ?  "  said  Merthyr. 

"  If  the  Ticino  overflows,  it  will  flood  Milan,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  And  your  occupation  now  is  to  watch  the  height  of  the 
water  ?  " 

"  My  occupation,  padrone  ?  I  am  not  on  the  watch- 
tower."  Beppo  winked,  adding:  "I  have  my  occupation." 
He  threw  off  the  effort  or  pretence  to  be  discreet.  "  Master 
of  my  soul !  this  is  my  occupation.  I  drink  coffee,  but  I  do 
not  smoke,  because  I  have  to  kiss  a  pretty  girl,  who  means 
to  object  to  the  smell  of  the  smoke.  Via!  I  know  her!  At 
five  she  draws  me  into  the  house." 

"  Are  you  relating  your  amours  to  me,  rascal  ?  "  Merthyr 
interposed. 

"  Padrone,  at  five  precisely  she  draws  me  into  the  house. 
She  is  a  German  girl.  Pardon  me  if  I  make  no  war  on 
women.  Her  name  is  Aennchen,  which  one  is  able  to  say 
if  one  grimaces  ; — why  not  ?  It  makes  her  laugh ;  and 
German  girls  are  amiable  when  one  can  make  them  laugh. 
'Tis  so  that  they  begin  to  melt.  Behold  the  difference  of 
races  !  I  must  kiss  her  to  melt  her,  and  then  have  a  quar- 
rel. I  could  have  it  after  the  first,  or  the  fiftieth  with  an 
Italian  girl ;  but  my  task  will  be  excessively  difficult  with  a 
German  girl,  if  I  am  compelled  to  allow  myself  to  favour  her 
with  one  happy  solicitation  for  a  kiss,  to  commence  with. 
We  shall  see.  It  is,  as  my  abstention  from  tobacco  declares, 
an  anticipated  catastrophe." 

"  Long-worded,  long-winded,  obscure,  affirmatizing  by 
negatives,  confessing  by  implication  ! — where's  the  beginning 
and  end  of  you,  and  what's  your  meaning,"  said  Merthyr, 
who  talked  to  him  as  one  may  talk  to  an  Italian  servant. 

"  The  contessa,  my  mistress,  has  enemies.  Padrone,  I 
devote  myself  to  her  service." 

"  By  making  love  to  a  lady's  maid  ?  " 

"  Padrone,  a  rat  is  not  born  to  find  his  way  up  the  grand 
staircase.  She  has  enemies.  One  of  them  was  the  sublime 
Barto  Rizzo — admirable — though  I  must  hate  him.  He  said 
to  his  wife  :  '  If  a  thing  happens  to  me,  stab  to  the  heart 
the  Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani.'" 

"  Infoi'm  me  how  you  know  that  ?  "  said  Merthyr. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  CONSPIRACY.  445 

Beppo  pointed  to  his  head,  and  Mertliyr  smiled.  To 
imagine,  invent,  and  believe,  were  spontaneous  with  Beppo 
when  his  practical  sagacity  was  not  on  the  stretch.  He 
glanced  at  the  caffe  clock. 

"  Padrone,  at  eleven  to-night  shall  I  see  you  here  ?  At 
eleven  I  shall  come  like  a  charged  cannon.  I  have  business. 
I  have  seen  my  mistress's  blood !  I  will  tell  you :  this 
German  girl  lets  me  know  that  some  one  detests  my  mistress. 
Who  ?  I  am  olf  to  discover.  But  who  is  the  damned 
creature  ?  I  must  coo  and  kiss,  while  my  toes  are  dancing 
on  hot  plates,  to  find  her  out.  Who  is  she  ?  If  she  were 
half  Milan  ..." 

His  hands  waved  in  outline  the  remainder  of  the  speech, 
and  he  rose,  but  sat  again.  He  had  caught  sight  of  the  spy, 
Luigi  Saracco,  arldressing  the  signor  Antonio-Pericles  in  his 
carriage.  Pericles  drove  on.  The  horses  presently  turned, 
and  he  saluted  Merthyr. 

"  She  has  but  one  friend  in  Milan :  it  is  myself,"  was  his 
introductory  remark.  "  My  poor  child  !  my  dear  Powys, 
she  is  the  best — '  I  cannot  sing  to  you  to-day,  dear  Pericles  ' 
— she  said  that  after  she  had  opened  her  eyes  ;  after  the  first 
mist,  you  know.  She  is  the  best  child  upon  earth.  I  could 
wish  she  were  a  devil,  my  Powys.  Such  a  voice  should  be 
in  an  iron  body.  But  she  has  immense  health.  The  doctor, 
who  is  also  mine,  feels  her  pulse.  He  assures  me  it  goes  as 
Time  himself,  and  Time,  my  friend,  you  know,  has  the  inten- 
tion of  going  a  great  way.  She  is  good  :  she  is  too  good. 
She  makes  a  baby  of  Pericles,  to  whom  what  is  woman  ? 
Have  I  not  the  sex  in  my  pocket  ?  Her  husband,  he  is  a 
fool,  ser."  Pericles  broke  thundering  into  a  sentence  of 
English,  fell  in  love  with  it,  and  resumed  in  the  same 
tongue  :  "  I — it  is  I  zat  am  her  guard,  her  safety.  Her 
husband — oh !  she  must  mainy  a  young  man,  little  donkey 
zat  she  is  !  We  accept  it  as  a  destiny,  my  Powys.  And  he 
plays  false  to  her.  Good  ;  I  do  not  object.  But,  imagine  in 
your  own  mind,  my  Powys — instead  of  passion,  of  rage,  of 
tempest,  she  is  frozen  wiz  a  repose.  Do  you,  hein  ?  sink  it 
will  come  out," — Pericles  eyed  Merthyr  with  a  subtle  sniilo 
askew, — "  I  have  sot  so  ; — it  will  come  out  when  she  is  one 
day  in  a  terrible  scene  .  .  .  Mon  Dieu !  it  was  a  terril)lo 
scene  for  me  when  I  looked  on  ze  clout  zat  washed  ze  blood 
of  ze  tei'rible  assassination.     So  goes  out  a  v5ice,  possibly  I 


440  VITTORIA. 

Divine,  yon  say  ?  "We  are  a  macliiiie.  N'ow,  yon  "behold, 
she  has  faints.  It  may  happen  at  my  concert  where  she 
sings  to-morrow  night.  You  saw  me  in  my  carriage  speak- 
ing to  a  man.  He  is  my  spy — my  dog  wiz  a  nose.  I  have 
set  him  upon  a  woman.  If  zat  woman  has  a  plot  for  to- 
morrow night  to  spoil  my  concert,  she  shall  not  know  where 
she  shall  wake  to-morrow  moi-ning  after.  Ha  !  here  is  mili- 
tary music — twenty  sossand  doors  jam.  on  horrid  hinge;  and 
right,  left,  right,  left,  to  it,  confound  !  like  dolls  all  wiz  one 
face.  Look  at  your  soldiers,  Powys.  Put  zem  on  a  stage, 
and  you  see  all  background  people — a  bawling  chorus.  It 
shows  to  you  how  superior  it  is — a  stage  to  life !  Hark  to 
such  music  !  I  cannot  stand  it ;  I  am  driven  away ;  I  am 
violent ;  I  rage." 

Pericles  howled  the  name  of  his  place  of  residence,  with 
an  offer  of  lodgings  in  it,  and  was  carried  off  writhing  his 
body  as  he  passed  a  fine  military  marching  band. 

The  figure  of  old  Agostino  Balderini  stood  in  front  of 
Merthyr.  They  exchanged  gi'eetings.  At  the  mention  of 
Rome,  Agostino  frowned  impatiently.  He  spoke  of  Vittoria 
in  two  or  three  short  exclamations,  and  was  about  to  speak 
of  Carlo,  but  checked  his  tongue.  "  Judge  for  yourself. 
Come,  and  see,  and  approve,  if  you  can.  Will  you  come  ? 
There's  a  meeting ;  there's  to  be  a  resolution.  Question — 
Shall  we  second  the  King  of  Sardinia,  Piedmont,  and  Savoy  ? 
If  so,  let  us  set  this  pumpk  i,  called  Milan,  on  its  legs.  I 
shall  be  an  attentive  listener  like  you,  my  friend.    I  speak  no 


more." 


Merthyr  went  with  him  to  the  house  of  a  carpenter,  where 
in  one  of  the  uppermost  chambers  communicating  with  the 
roof,  Ugo  Corte,  Marco  Sana,  Giulio  Bandinelli,  and  others, 
sat  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  Carlo  Ammiani  ;  when  he  came 
Carlo  had  to  bear  with  the  looks  of  mastiffs  for  being  late. 
He  shook  Merthyr's  hand  hurriedly,  and  as  soon  as  the  door 
was  fastened,  began  to  speak.  His  first  sentence  brought  a 
grunt  of  derision  from  Ugo  Corte.  It  declared  that  there 
was  no  hope  of  a  rising  in  Milan.  Carlo  swung  round  upon 
the  Bergamasc.  "  Observe  our  leader,"  Agostino  whispered 
to  Merthyr;  "it  would  be  kindness  to  give  him  a  duel." 
More  than  one  tumult  of  outcries  had  to  be  stilled  before 
Merthyr  gathered  any  notion  of  the  designs  of  the  persons 
present.    Bergamasc  sneered  at  Brescian,  and  both  united  in 


THE  SHADOW  OF  CONSPIKACY.  447 

contempt  of  the  Milanese,  who,  having  a  burden  on  their 
minds,  appealed  at  once  to  their  individual  willingness  to 
use  the  sword  in  vindication  of  Milan  against  its  traducers. 
By  a  great  effort,  Carlo  got  some  self-mastery.  He  admitted, 
colouring  horribly,  that  Brescia  and  Bergamo  were  ready, 
and  Milan  was  not ;  therefore  those  noble  cities  (he  read 
excerpts  from  letters  showing  their  readiness)  were  to  take 
the  lead,  and  thither  on  the  morrow-night  he  would  ero,  let 
the  tidings  from  the  king's  army  be  what  they  might. 

Merthyr  quitted  the  place  rather  impressed  by  his  elo- 
quence, but  unfavourably  by  his  feverish  look.  Countess 
d'Isorella  had  been  referred  to  as  one  who  served  the  cause 
ably  and  faithfully.  In  alluding  to  her.  Carlo  bit  his  lip ; 
he  did  not  proceed  until  surrounding  murmurs  of  satisfac- 
tion encouraged  him  to  continue  a  sort  of  formal  eulogy  of 
the  lady,  which  proved  to  be  a  defence  against  foregone 
charges,  for  Corte  retracted  an  accusation,  and  said  that  he 
had  no  fault  to  find  with  the  countess.  A  proposition  to  join 
the  enterprise  was  put  to  Merthyr,  but  his  engagement  with 
the  Chief  in  Rome  saved  him  from  hearing  much  of  the 
marvellous  facilities  of  the  plot.  "  I  should  have  wished  to 
see  you  to-night,"  Carlo  said  as  they  were  parting.  Merthyr 
named  his  hotel.  Carlo  nodded.  "My  wife  is  still  slightly 
feeble,"  he  said. 

"  I  regret  it,"  Merthyr  rejoined. 

«  She  is  not  ilk" 

"  No,  it  cannot  be  want  of  courage,"  Merthyr  spoke  at 
random. 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Carlo,  as  vacantly.  "  You  will 
see  her  while  I  am  travelling." 

"  I  hope  to  find  the  Countess  Alessandra  .well  enough  to 
receive  me." 

"  Always  ;  always,"  said  Carlo,  wishing  apparently  to  say 
more.  Merthyr  waited  an  instant,  but  Carlo  broke  into  a 
conventional  smile  of  adi^>u. 

"  While  he  is  travelling,'"  Merthyr  repeated  to  Agostino, 
who  had  stood  by  during  the  brief  dialogue,  and  led  the  way 
to  the  Coi'so. 

"  He  did  not  say  how  far !"  was  the  old  man's  ejacula- 
tion. 

"  But,  good  heaven !  if  you  think  he's  on  an  unfortunate 
errand,  why  don't  you  stop  him,  advise  him  ?"  Merthyr 
broke  out. 


448  VITTORIA. 

"  Advise  him !  stop  him !  my  friend.  T  wonld  advise  hlra, 
if  I  had  the  patience  of  angels ;  stop  him,  if  I  had  the  power 
of  Lucifer.  Did  you  not  see  that  he  shunned  speaking  to 
me  ?  I  have  been  such  a  perpetual  dish  of  vinegar  under 
his  nose  for  the  last  month,  that  the  poor  fellow  sniffs  when 
I  draw  near.  He  must  go  his  way.  He  leads  a  torrent  that 
must  sweep  him  on.  Corte,  Sana,  and  the  rest,  would  be  in 
Rome  now,  but  for  him.  So  should  I.  Your  Agostiuo, 
however,  is  not  of  Bergamo,  or  of  Brescia  ;  he  is  not  a  mad- 
man; simply  a  poor  rheumatic  Piedmontese,  who  discerns 
the  point  where  a  united  Italy  may  fix  its  standard.  I  would 
start  for  Rome  to-morrow,  if  I  could  leave  her — my  soul's 
child  !"  Agostino  raised  his  hand  :  "  I  do  love  the  woman. 
Countess  Alessandra  Ammiani.  I  say,  she  is  a  peerless 
woman.     Is  she  not  ?" 

"  There  is  none  like  her,"  said  Merthyr. 

"  A  peerless  woman,  recognized  and  sacrificed  !  I  cannot 
leave  her.  If  the  Government  here  would  lay  hands  on 
Carlo  and  do  their  worst  at  once,  I  would  be  off.  They  are 
too  wary.  I  believe  that  they  are  luring  him  to  his  ruin.  I 
can  give  no  proofs,  but  I  judge  by  the  best  evidence.  What 
avails  my  telling  him  ?  I  lose  my  temper  the  moment  I 
begin  to  speak.  A  curst  witch  beguiles  the  handsome  idiot 
— poor  darling  lad  that  he  is  !  She  has  him — can  I  tell  you 
how  ?  She  has  got  him — got  him  fast !  The  nature  of  the 
chains  are  doubtless  innocent,  if  those  which  a  woman 
throws  round  us  be  ever  distinguishable.  He  loves  his  wife 
■ — he  is  not  a  monster." 

"  He  appears  desperately  feverish,"  said  Merthyr. 

"  Did  you  not  notice  it  ?  Yes,  like  a  man  pushed  by  his 
destiny  out  of.  the  path.  He  is  ashamed  to  hesitate ;  he 
cannot  turn  back.  Ahead  of  him  he  sees  a  gulf.  That 
army  of  Carlo  Alberto  may  do  something  under  its  Pole. 
Prophecy  is  too  easy.  I  say  no  more.  We  may  have 
Lombardy  open  ;  and  if  so,  my  poor  boy's  vanity  will  be 
crowned :  he  will  only  have  the  king  and  his  army  against 
him  then." 

Discoursing  in  this  wise,  they  reached  the  caffe  where 
Beppo  had  appointed  to  meet  his  old  master,  and  sat  amid 
here  and  there  a  whitecoat,  and  many  nods  and  whispers 
over  such  news  as  the  privileged  journals  and  the  official 
gazette  afforded. 


THB  SHADOW  OP  CONSPIRACY.  449 

Beppo's  destination  was  to  tlie  Duclio?;s  of  Graiitli's 
palace.  Nearing  it,  he  perceived  Luigi  eiuleavouring  to  gain 
a  passage  beside  the  burly  form  of  Jacob  Baumwalder 
Feckelwitz,  who  presently  seized  him  and  hurled  him  into 
the  road.  As  Beppo  was  sidling  up  the  courtway,  Jacob 
sprang  back  ;  Luigi  made  a  rush  ;  Jacob  caught  them  both, 
but  they  wriggled  out  of  his  clutch,  and  Luigi,  being  the 
fearfuller,  ran  the  farthest.  While  he  was  out  of  hearing, 
Beppo  told  Jacob  to  keep  watch  upon  Luigi,  as  the  bearer  of 
an  amorous  letter  from  a  signer  of  quality  to  Aennchen,  the 
which  he  himself  desired  to  obtain  sight  of ;  "  for  the  wench 
has  caused  me  three  sleepless  nights,"  he  confessed  frankly. 
Jacob  affected  not  to  understand.  Luigi  and  Beppo  now 
leaned  against  the  wall  on  either  side  of  him  and  baited 
him  till  he  shook  with  rage.  "  He  is  the  lord  of  the  duchess, 
his  mistress — what  a  lucky  fellow  !"  said  Luigi.  "  When 
he's  dog  at  the  gates  no  one  can  approach  her.  When  he 
isn't,  you  can  fancy  what !"  "  He's  only  a  mechanical  con- 
trivance ;  he's  not  a  man,"  said  Beppo.  "  He's  the  principal 
flea-catcher  of  the  palace,"  said  Luigi;  "here  he  is  all  day, 
and  at  night  the  devil  knows  where  he  hunts." — Luigi 
hopped  in  a  half-circle  round  the  exacerbated  Jacob,  and 
finally  provoked  an  assault  that  gave  an  opening  to  Beppo. 
They  all  ran  in,  Luigi  last.  Jacob  chased  Beppo  up  the 
stairs,  lost  him,  and  remembered  what  he  had  said  of  the 
letter  borne  by  Luigi,  for  whom  he  determined  to  lie  in 
waiting.  "  Better  two  in  there  than  one,"  he  thought.  The 
two  courted  his  Aennchen  openly ;  but  Luigi,  as  the  bearer 
of  an  amorous  letter  from  the  signor  of  quality,  who  could 
be  no  other  than  signor  Antonio-Pericles,  was  the  one  to  be 
intercepted.  Like  other  jealous  lovers,  Jacob  wanted  to  read 
Aennchen's  answer,  to  be  cured  of  his  fatal  passion  for  the 
maiden,  and  on  this  he  set  the  entire  force  of  his  mind. 

Running  up  by  different  staircases,  Beppo  and  Luigi  came 
upon  Aennchen  nearly  at  the  same  time.  She  turned  a 
cold  face  on  Beppo,  and  requested  Luigi  to  follow  her. 
Astonished  to  see  him  in  such  favour,  Beppo  was  ready  to 
provoke  the  quaiTel  before  the  kiss  when  she  retiu-ued ;  but 
she  said  that  she  had  obeyed  her  naiistress's  orders,  and  was 
obeying  the  duchess  in  refusing  to  speak  of  them,  or  of  any- 
thing relating  to  them.  She  had  promised  him  an  interview 
in  that  little  room  leading  into  the  duchess's  boudoir.     Ho 

20 


450  VITTOEIA. 

pressed  her  to  conduct  him.  "  Ah  ;  then  it's  not  for  mo  you 
come,"  she  said.  Beppo  had  calculated  that  the  kiss  would 
open  his  way  to  the  room,  and  the  quarrel  disembarrass  him 
of  his  pretty  companion  when  there.  "  Tou  have  come  to 
listen  to  conversation  again,"  said  Aennchen.  "  Ach  !  the 
fool  a  woman  is  to  think  that  you  Italians  have  any  idea 
except  self-interest  when  you,  when  you  .  .  .  talk  nonsense 
to  us-  Go  away,  if  you  please.  Good  evening."  She  dropped 
a  curtsey  with  a  surly  coquetry,  charming  of  its  kind.  Beppo 
protested  that  the  room  was  dear  to  him  because  there  first 
he  had  known  for  one  blissful  half-second  the  sweetness  of 
her  mouth. 

"  Who  told  you  that  persons  who  don't  like  your  mistress 
are  going  to  talk  in  there  ?"  said  Aennchen. 

"  You,"  said  Beppo. 

Aennchen  drew  up  in  triumph  :  "  And  now  will  you  pre- 
tend that  you  didn't  come  up  here  to  go  in  there  to  listen 
to  what  they  say  ?" 

Beppo  clapped  hands  at  her  cleverness  in  trapping  him. 
*'  Hush,"  said  all  her  limbs  and  features,  belying  the  previous 
formal  '  good-evening  '  He  refused  to  be  silent,  thinking  it 
a  way  of  getting  to  the  little  antechamber.  "  Then,  I  tell 
you,  down-stairs  you  go,"  said  Aennchen  stiffly. 

"  Is  it  decided  ?"  Beppo  asked.  "  Then,  good-evening. 
You  detestable  German  girls  can't  love.  One  step — a  smile  : 
another  step — a  kiss.  You  tit-for-tat  minx !  Have  you  no 
notion  of  the  sacredness  of  the  sentiments  which  inspires  me 
to  petition  that  the  place  for  our  interview  should  be  there 
where  I  tasted  ecstatic  joy  for  the  space  of  a  flash  of  light- 
ning ?  I  will  go ;  but  it  is  there  that  I  will  go,  and  I  will 
await  you  there,  Signorina  Aennchen.  Yes,  laugh  at  me ! 
laus:h  at  me !" 

"  No ;  really,  I  don't  laugh  at  you,  Signor  Beppo,"  said 
Aennchen,  protesting  in  denial  of  what  she  was  doing. 
"  This  way." 

*'  No,  it's  that  way,"  said  Beppo. 

"  It's  through  here."  She  opened  a  door.  "  The  duchess 
has  a  reception  to-night,  and  you  can't  go  round.  Ach  !  you 
would  not  betray  me  ?" 

"  Not  if  it  were  the  duchess  herself,"  said  Beppo ;  he 
woula  refuse  to  satisfy  man's  natural  vanity  in  such  a 
case. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  CONSPIRACY.  451 

Eager  to  advance  to  the  little  ante-chamber,  he  allowed 
Aennchen  to  wait  behind  him.  He  heard  the  door  shut  and 
a  lock  turn,  and  he  was  in  the  dark,  and  alone,  left  to  take 
counsel  of  his  fingers'  ends. 

"  She  was  born  to  it,"  Beppo  remarked,  to  extenuate  his 
outwitted  cunning,  when  he  found  each  door  of  the  room, 
fast  against  him. 

On  the  following  night  Vittoria  was  to  sing  at  a  concert 
in  the  Duchess  of  Graiitli's  great  saloon,  and  the  duchess 
had  humoured  Pericles  by  consenting  to  his  preposterous 
request  that  his  spy  should  have  an  opportunity  of  hearing 
Countess  d'Isorella  and  Irma  di  Karski  in  private  conver- 
sation together,  to  discover  whether  there  was  any  plot  of 
any  sort  to  vex  the  evening's  entertainment ;  as  the  jealous 
spite  of  those  two  women,  Pericles  said,  was  equal  to  any 
devilry  on  earth.  It  happened  that  Countess  d'Isorella  did 
not  come.  Luigi,  in  despair,  was  the  hearer  of  a  quick 
question  and  answer  dialogue,  in  the  obscure  German  tongue, 
between  Anna  Von  Lenkenstein  and  Irma  di  Karski ;  but  a 
happy  peep  between  the  hanging  curtains  gave  him  sight 
of  a  letter  passing  from  Anna's  hands  to  Irma's.  Anna 
quitted  her.  Irma  was  looking  at  the  superscription  of  the 
letter,  in  the  act  of  passing  in  her  steps,  when  Luigi  tore 
the  curtains  apart,  and  sprang  on  her  arm  like  a  cat.  Before 
her  shrieks  could  bring  succour,  Luigi  was  bounding  across 
the  court  with  the  letter  in  his  possession.  A  dreadful  hug 
awaited  him ;  his  pockets  were  ransacked,  and  he  was 
pitched  aching  into  the  street.  Jacob  Baumwalder  Feckel- 
witz  went  straightway  under  a  gas-lamp,  where  he  read  the 
address  of  the  letter  to  Countess  d'Isorella.  He  doubted ; 
he  had  a  half-desire  to  tear  the  letter  open.  But  a  rumour 
of  the  attack  upon  Irma  had  spread  among  the  domestics, 
and  Jacob  prudently  went  up  to  his  mistress.  The  duchess 
was  sitting  with  Laura.  She  received  the  letter,  eyed  it 
all  over,  and  held  it  to  a  candle.  Laura's  head  was  bent  in 
dark  meditation.  The  sudden  increase  of  light  aroused 
her,  and  she  asked,  "  What  is  that  ?" 

"  A  letter  from  Countess  Anna  to  Countess  d'Isorella," 
said  the  duchess. 

"  Burnt !"  Laura  screamed. 

**It's  only  fair,"  the  duchess  remarked. 

"  From  her  to  that  woman  !     It  may  be  priceless.     Slopl 

2g2 


452  VITTORIA. 

Let  me  see  what  remains.  Amalia!  are  you  mad?  Oh  I 
you  false  friend.  I  would  have  sacrificed  my  right  hand  to 
eee  it." 

"  Try  and  love  me  still,"  said  the  duchess,  letting  her  take 
one  unburnt  corner,  and  crumble  the  black  tissuey  fragments 
to  smut  in  her  hands. 

There  was  no  writing ;  the  unburnt  coi'ner  of  the  letter 
was  a  blank. 

Laura  fooled  the  wi^etched  ashes  between  her  palms. 
"  Good-night,"  she  said.  "  Your  face  will  be  of  this  colour 
to  me,  my  dear,  for  long." 

"  I  cannot  behave  disgracefully,  even  to  keep  your  love, 
my  beloved,"  said  the  duchess. 

"  You  cannot  betray  a  German,  you  mean,"  Laura  re- 
torted.    "  You  could  let  a  spy  into  the  house." 

"  That  was  a  childish  matter — merely  to  satisfy  a  whim." 

"I  say  you  could  let  a  spy  into  the  house.  Who  is  to 
know  where  the  scruples  of  you  women  begin  ?  I  would 
have  given  my  jewels,  my  head,  my  husband's  sword,  for  a 
Bight  of  that  letter.  I  swear  that  it  concerns  us.  Yes,  us. 
You  are  a  false  fi'iend.  Fish-blooded  creature !  may  it  be 
a  year  before  I  look  on  you  again.  Hide  among  your  miser- 
able set!" 

"  Judge  me  when  you  are  cooler,  dearest,"  said  the  dnchess, 
Becking  to  detain  the  impetuous  sister  of  her  affection  by 
liie  sweeping  skirts;  but  Laura  spurned  her  touch,  and 
went  from  her. 

Irma  drove  to  Coimtess  d'Isorella's.  Violetta  was  abed, 
and  lay  fair  and  placid  as  a  Titian  Venus,  wlaile  Irma  sput- 
tered out  her  tale,  with  intermittent  sobs.  She  rose  upon 
her  elbow,  and  planting  it  in  her  pillow,  took  half-a-dozen 
puffs  of  a  cigarette,  and  then  requested  Irma  to  ring  for  her 
maid.  "  Do  nothing  till  you  see  me  again,"  she  said  ;  "  and 
take  my  ad\'ice  :  always  get  to  bed  before  midnight,  or  you'll 
have  unmanageable  wrinkles  in  a  couple  of  years.  If  you 
had  been  in  bed  at  a  prudent  hour  to-night,  this  scandal 
would  nut  have  occurred." 

"  How  can  I  be  in  bed  ?  How  could  I  help  it  ?"  moaned 
Irma,  replying  to  the  abstract  rule,  and  the  perplexing  illus- 
tration of  its  force. 

Violetta  dismissed  her.  "  After  all,  my  wish  is  to  save 
my  poor  Amaranto,"  she   mused.     "I  am   only  doing  now 


THE  SHALOW  OP  CONSPIRACY.  453 

■what  I  should  have  been  doing  in  the  daylight ;  and  if  I 
can't  stop  him,  the  Government  must;  and  they  will. 
Whatever  the  letter  contained,  I  can  anticipate  it.  He 
knows  my  profession  and  my  necessities.  I  must  have 
money.  Why  not  from  the  rich  German  woman  whom  he 
jilted  ?" 

She  attributed  Anna's  apparent  passion  of  revenge  to  a 
secret  passion  of  unrequited  love.  What  else  was  implied 
by  her  willingness  to  part  with  land  and  money  for  the  key 
to  his  machinations  r* 

Violetta  would  have  understood  a  revenge  directed  against 
Angelo  Guidascarpi,  as  the  slayer  of  Anna's  brother.  But 
of  him  Anna  had  only  inquired  once,  and  carelessly,  whether 
he  was  in  Milan.  Anna's  mystical  semi-patriotism — prompted 
by  her  hatred  of  Vittoria,  hatred  of  Carlo  as  Angelo's  cousin 
and  protector,  hatred  of  the  Italy  which  held  the  three,  who 
never  took  the  name  Tedesco  on  their  tongues  without  loath- 
ing— was  perfectly  hidden  from  this  shrewd  head. 

Some  extra  patrols  were  in  the  streets.  As  she  stepped 
into  the  carriage,  a  man  rushed  up,  speaking  hoarsely  and 
inarticulately,  and  jumped  in  beside  her.  She  had  discerned 
Barto  Rizzo  in  time  to  give  directions  to  her  footman,  before 
Bhe  was  addressed  by  a  body  of  gendai-mes  in  pursuit,  whom 
Bhe  mystified  by  enti-eating  them  to  enter  her  house  and 
eearch  it  through,  if  they  supposed  that  any  evil-doer  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  open  door.  They  informed  her  that 
a  man  had  escuped  fi'om  the  civil  prison.  "  Poor  creature  !" 
f-uid  the  countess,  with  womanly  pity;  "  but  you  must  see 
that  he  is  not  in  my  house.  How  could  three  of  you  let  one 
escape  ?"  She  drove  olf  laughing  at  their  vehement  asser- 
tion that  he  would  not  have  escaped  from  them.  Barto 
llizzo  made  her  conduct  him  to  Countess  Ammiani's  gates. 
Violetta  was  frightened  by  his  eyes  when  she  tried  to  per. 
Buade  him  in  her  best  coaxing  manner  to  avoid  Count 
Ammiani.  In  fact  she  apprehended  that  he  would  be  veiy 
Imich  in  her  way.  She  had  no  time  for  chagrin  at  her  loss 
of  power  over  him,  though  sho  was  sensible  of  vexation. 
Barto  folded  his  arms  and  sat  with  his  head  in  his  chest, 
Bilent,  till  they  reached  the  gates,  when  he  said  in  Frencli, 
"  Madame,  I  am  a  nameless  person  in  your  train.  Gabble  !" 
ho  added,  when  the  countess  advised  him  not  to  enter;  nor 
would  he  allow  her  to  precede  him  by  more  than  ouo  step. 


454  VITTORIA. 

Violetta  sent  tip  her  name.  The  man  had  shaTcen  her  nerves. 
"  At  least,  remember  that  your  appearance  should  be  decent," 
Bhe  said,  catching  sight  of  blood  on  his  hands,  and  torn  gar- 
ments. "  I  expect,  madame,"  he  replied,  "  I  shall  not  have 
time  to  wash  before  I  am  laid  out.  My  time  is  short.  I 
want  tobacco.  The  washing  can  be  done  by-and-by,  but  not 
the  smoking." 

They  were  tishered  up  to  the  reception-room,  where 
Countess  Ammiani,  Yittoria,  and  Carlo  sat,  awaiting  the 
visitor  whose  unexpected  name,  cast  in  their  midst  at  so 
troubled  a  season,  had  clothed  her  with  some  of  the  mid- 
night's terrors. 


CHAPTER  XLin. 


THE  LAST  MEETING  IN  MILAN. 


Barto  Rtzzo  had  silence  about  him  without  having  to  ask 
for  it,  when  he  followed  Violetta  into  Countess  Ammiani's 
saloon  of  reception.  Carlo  was  leaning  over  his  mother's 
chair,  holding  Vittoria's  wrist  across  it,  and  so  enclosing  her, 
while  both  young  faces  were  raised  to  the  bowed  forehead  of 
the  countess.  They  stood  up.  Violetta  broke  through  the 
formal  superlatives  of  an  Italian  greeting.  "  Speak  to  me 
alone,"  she  murmured  for  Carlo's  ear  :  and  glancing  at  Barto: 
*'  Here  is  a  madman  ;  a  mild  one,  I  trust."  She  contrived 
to  show  that  she  was  not  responsible  for  his  intrusion. 
Countess  Ammiani  gathered  Vittoria  in  her  arms ;  Carlo 
stepped  a  pace  before  them.  Terror  was  on  the  venerable 
lady's  face,  wrath  on  her  son's.  As  he  fronted  Barto,  he 
motioned  a  finger  to  the  curtain  hangings,  and  Violetta, 
quick  at  reading  signs,  found  his  bare  sword  there.  "  But 
you  will  not  want  it,"  she  remarked,  handing  the  hilt  to  him, 
and  softly  eyeing  the  impression  of  her  warm  touch  on  the 
steel  as  it  passed. 

"  Carlo,  thou  son  of  Paolo  !  Countess  Marcellina,  wife  of  a 
true  patriot !  stand  aside,  both  of  you.  It  is  between  the 
Countess  Alessandra  and  myself,"  so  the  man  commenced, 
with  his  usual  pomp  of  interjection.     "  Swords  and  big  eyes 


THE  LAST  MEETING  IN  MILAN.  455 

— are  they  things  to  stop  me  ?"  Barto  laughed  scornfully. 
He  had  spoken  in  the  full  roll  of  his  voice,  and  the  sword 
was  hard  back  for  the  thrust, 

Vittoria  disengaged  herself  from  the  countess.  "  Speak 
to  me,"  she  said,  dismayed  by  the  look  of  what  seemed  an 
exaltation  of  madness  in  Barto's  visage,  but  firm  as  far  as 
the  trembling  of  her  limbs  would  let  her  be. 

He  dropped  to  her  feet  and  kissed  them. 

**  Emilia  Alessandra  Belloni !  Vittoria  !  Countess  Ales- 
sandra  Ammiani !  pity  me.  Hear  this  : — I  hated  you  as  the 
devil  is  hated.  Yesterday  I  woke  up  in  prison  to  hear  that 
I  must  adore  you.  God  of  all  the  pits  of  punishment !  was 
there  ever  one  like  this  ?     I  had  to  change  heads." 

It  was  the  language  of  a  distorted  mind,  and  lamentable  to 
hear  when  a  sob  shattered  his  voice. 

"  Am  I  mad  ?"  he  asked  piteously,  clasping  his  temples. 

"You  are  as  we  are,  if  you  weep,"  said  Vittoria,  to  sooth 
him. 

"  Then  I  have  been  mad !"  he  cried,  starting.  "  I  knew 
you  a  wicked  virgin — signora  contessa,  confess  to  me,  mar» 
riage  has  changed  you.  Has  it  not  changed  you  ?  In  the 
name  of  the  Father  of  the  Saints,  help  me  out  of  it : — my 
brain  reels  backwards.  You  were  false,  but  man-iage — it  acts 
in  this  way  with  you  women ;  yes,  that  we  know — you  were 
married,  and  you  said,  '  Now  let  us  be  faithful.'  Did  you 
not  say  that  ?  I  am  forgiving,  though  none  think  it.  You 
have  only  to  confess.  If  you  will  not, — oh!"  He  smote  his 
face,  groaning. 

Carlo  spoke  a  stem  word  in  an  undertone,  counselling  him 
to  be  gone. 

"  If  you  will  not — what  was  she  to  do  ?"  Barto  cut  the 
question  to  interrogate  his  strayed  wits.  "  Look  at  me, 
Countess  Alessandra.  I  was  in  the  prison.  I  heard  that  my 
Kosellinahad  a  tight  heart.  She  cried  for  her  master,  poor 
heathen,  and  I  sprang  out  of  the  walls  to  her.  There — there 
— she  lay  like  a  breathing  board ;  a  woman  with  a  body  like 
a  coffin  half  alive ;  not  an  eye  to  show  ;  nothing  but  a  body 
and  a  whisper.  She  perished  righteously,  for  she  disobeyed. 
She  acted  without  my  orders :  she  dared  to  think  !  She  will 
hi'  damned,  for  she  would  have  vengeance  before  she  went. 
She  glorified  you  over  me — over  Barto  Rizzo.  Oh  !  she 
ehocked  my  soul.     But  she  is  dead,  and  I  am  her  slave. 


456  VITTORIA. 

Every  word  was  of  you.  Take  anofher  head,  Barto  Rizzo  t 
your  old  one  was  mad :  she  said  that  to  my  soul.  She  died 
blessing  you  above  me.  I  saw  the  last  bit  of  life  go  up  from 
her  mouth  blessing  you.  It's  heard  by  this  time  in  heaven, 
and  it's  written.  Then  I  have  had  two  years  of  madness. 
If  she  is  right,  I  was  wrong  ;  I  was  a  devil  of  hell.  I  know 
there's  an  eye  given  to  dying  creatures,  and  she  looked  with 
it,  and  she  said,  the  soul  of  Rinaldo  Guidascarpi,  her  angel, 
was  glorifying  you;  and  she  thanked  the  sticking  of  her 
heart,  when  she  tried  to  stab  you,  poor  fool !" 

Carlo  interrupted  :  •'  Now  go  ;  you  have  said  enough." 
"  No,  let  him  speak,"  said  Vittoria.     She  supposed  that 
Barto  was  going  to  say  that  he  had  not  given  the  order  for 
her  assassination.     "  You  do  not  wish  me  dead,  signore  ?" 

"Nothing  that  is  not  standing  in  my  way,  signora  contessa," 
said  Barto ;  and  his  features  blazed  with  a  smile  of  happy 
self -justification.  "  I  have  killed  a  sentinel  this  night :  Pro- 
vidence placed  him  there.  I  wish  for  no  death,  but  I 
punish,  and — ah !  the  cursed  sight  of  the  woman  who  calls 
me  mad  for  two  years.  She  thrusts  a  bar  of  iron  in  an 
engine  at  work,  and  says,  Work  on  !  work  on !  Were  you 
not  a  traitress  ?  Countess  Alessandra,  were  you  not  once 
a  traitress  ?  Oh  !  confess  it ;  save  my  head.  Reflect,  dear 
lady !  it's  cruel  to  make  a  man  of  a  saintly  sincerity 
look  back — I  count  the  months — seventeen  months  !  to  look 
back  seventeen  months,  and  see  that  his  tongue  was  a 
clapper, — his  will,  his  eyes,  his  ears,  all  about  him,  every- 
thing, stirred  like  a  pot  on  the  fire.  I  traced  you.  I  saw 
your  treachery.  I  said — I,  I  am  her  Day  of  Judgement. 
She  shall  look  on  me  and  perish,  struck  down  by  her  own 
treachery.  Were  my  senses  false  to  me  ?  I  had  lived  in 
virtuous  fidelity  to  my  principles.  None  can  accuse  me. 
Why  were  my  senses  false,  if  my  principles  were  true  ?  I 
said  you  were  a  traitress.  I  saw  it  from  the  first.  I  had 
the  divine  contempt  for  women.  My  distrust  of  a  woman 
was  the  eye  of  this  brain,  and  I  said — Follow  her,  dog  her, 
find  her  out !  I  proved  her  false  ;  but  her  devilish  cunning 
deceived  every  other  man  in  the  world.  Oh  !  let  me  bellow, 
for  it's  me  she  proves  the  mass  of  corruption  !  To-morrow 
I  die,  and  if  I  am  mad  now,  what  sort  of  a  curse  is  that  ? 
Now  to-morrow  is  an  hour — a  laugh  !  But  if  I've  not  been 
shot  from  a  true  bow — if  I've  been  a  sham  for  two  years — if 


THE  LAST  MEETING  IN  MILAN.  457 

my  name,  and  nature,  bones,  brains,  were  all  false  things 
hunting-  a  shadow,  Countess  Alessandra,  see  the  misery  of 
Uarto  Rizzo  !  Look  at  those  two  years,  and  say  that  I  had 
my  head.  Answer  me,  as  you  love  your  husband :  are  you 
heart  and  soul  with  him  in  the  fresh  fig-ht  for  Lombardy  ?" 

He  said  this  with  a  look  penetrating  and  malignant,  and 
then  by  a  sudden  flash  pitifully  entreating. 

Carlo  feared  to  provoke,  revolted  from  the  thought  of 
slaying  him.  "  Yes,  yes,"  he  interposed,  "  my  wife  is  heart 
and  soul  in  it.     Go." 

Barto  looked  from  him  to  her  with  the  eyes  of  a  dog  that 
awaits  an  order. 

Vittoria  gathered  her  strength,  and  said : 

"I  am  not." 

"  It  is  her  answer !"  Barto  roared,  and  from  deep  dejec- 
tion his  whole  countenance  radiated.  "  She  says  it — she 
might  give  the  lie  to  a  saint !  I  was  never  mad.  I  saw  the 
spot,  and  put  my  finger  on  it,  and  not  a  madman  can  do  that. 
]\ly  two  years  are  my  own.  Mad  now,  for,  see !  I  worship 
the  creature.  She  is  not  heart  and  soul  in  it.  She  is  not 
in  it  at  all.  She  is  a  little  woman,  a  lovely  thing,  a  toy,  a 
cantatrice.  Joy  to  the  big  heart  of  Barto  Rizzo  !  I  am  for 
Brescia  !" 

He  flung  his  arm  like  a  banner,  and  ran  out. 

Carlo  laid  his  sword  on  a  table.  Vittoria's  head  was  on 
his  mother's  bosom. 

The  hour  was  too  full  of  imminent  grief  for  either  of  the 
three  to  regard  this  scene  as  other  than  a  gross  intrusion 
ended. 

"  Why  did  you  deny  my  words  ?"  Carlo  said  coldly. 

*'  I  could  not  lie  to  make  him  wretched,"  she  replied  in 
a  low  murmur. 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  *  I  am  for  Brescia '  means  ? 
He  goes  to  stir  the  city  before  a  soul  is  ready." 

"  I  warned  you  that  I  should  speak  the  truth  of  myself 
to-night,  dearest." 

"  You  should  discern  between  speaking  truth  to  a  mad- 
man, and  to  a  man." 

Vittoria  did  not  lift  her  eyes,  and  Carlo  beckoned  to 
Violetta,  with  whom  he  left  the  room. 

"He  is  angry,"  Countess  Ammiani  murmured.  "  ^ly 
child,  you  cannot  deal  with  men  in  a  fever  unless  you  learn 


458  VITTOElA. 

to  dissemble ;  and  there  is  exemption  for  doing  it,  botli  in 
plain  sense,  and  in  our  religion.  If  I  could  arrest  him,  I 
would  speak  boldly.  It  is,  alas  !  vain  to  dream  of  that ;  and 
it  is  therefore  an  unkindness  to  cause  him  irritation.  Carlo 
has  given  way  to  you  by  allowing  you  to  be  h?'re  when  his 
friends  assemble.  He  knows  your  intention  to  speak.  He 
has  done  more  than  would  have  been  permitted  by  my  hus- 
band to  me,  though  I  too  was  well-beloved." 

Vittoria  continued  silent  that  her  head  might  be  cherished 
where  it  lay.  She  was  roused  from  a  stupor  by  heaiing 
new  voices.  Laura's  lips  came  pressing  to  her  cheek. 
Colonel  Corte,  Agostino,  Marco  Sana,  and  Angelo  Guida- 
scarpi,  saluted  her.     Angelo  she  kissed. 

"  That  lady  should  be  abed  and  asleep,"  Corte  was  heard 
to  say. 

The  remark  passed  without  notice.  Angelo  talked  apart 
with  Vittoria.  He  had  seen  the  dying  of  the  woman  whose 
hand  had  been  checked  in  the  act  of  striking  by  the  verj 
passion  of  animal  hatred  which  raised  it.  He  spoke  of  her 
affectionately,  attesting  to  the  fact  that  Barto  Rizzo  had  not 
prompted  her  guilt.  Vittoria  moaned  at  a  short  outline 
that  he  gave  of  the  last  minutes  between  those  two,  in 
which  her  name  was  dreadfully  and  fatally,  incomprehen- 
sibly prominent. 

All  were  waiting  impatiently  for  Carlo's  return. 

When  he  appeared  he  led  Vittoria  before  the  men — with 
some  touch  of  scenic  irony,  as  Agostino  thought,  for  it  was 
foreign  to  his  habitual  manner — and  presented  the  person 
to  whom  they  were  indebted.  Violetta  coloured,  but  kept 
her  composure. 

"  Countess  Violetta  will  do  us  the  honour  to  take  her 
chamber  in  this  house  till  I  start,"  Carlo  whispered  to  his 
mother. 

Violetta  stooped  to  intercede,  and  Countess  Ammiani  lent 
her  a  more  willing  ear. 

"  She  would  like  to  go  to  it  immediately,"  said  Carlo ; 
whereupon  his  mother  rose,  and  the  two  ladies  withdrew  in 
the  stiff  way  that  women  have  when  they  move  under  con- 
straint. 

Agostino  slapped  his  shoulder,  calling  him  Duke  of 
Ferrara,  and  a  name  or  two  of  the  princely  domestio 
tyrants. 


THE  LAST  MEETING  IN  MILAN.  459 

It  was  a  meeting  for  the  final  disposition  of  fhings  before 
the  outbreak.  Carlo  had  beg-un  to  spoak  when  Coi-te  drew 
his  attention  to  the  fact  that  ladies  were  present,  at  which 
Carlo  put  out  his  hand  as  if  introducing  them,  and  went  on 
speaking. 

"  Tour  wife  is  here,"  said  Corte. 

"  Mj  wife  and  Signora  Piaveni,"  Carlo  rejoined.  "  I  have 
consented  to  my  wife's  particular  wish  to  be  present." 

"  The  Signora  Piaveni's  opinions  are  known  :  your  wife's 
are  not." 

"  Countess  Alessandra  shares  mine,"  said  Laura,  rather 
tremulously. 

Countess  Ammiani  at  the  same  time  returned  and  took 
Vittoria's  hand  and  pressed  it  with  force.  Carlo  looked  at 
them  both. 

"  I  have  to  ask  your  excuses,  gentlemen.  My  wife,  my 
mother,  and  Signora  Piaveni,  have  served  the  cause  we 
worship  sufficiently  to  claim  a  right — I  am  sorry  to  use  such 
phrases ;  you  understand  my  meaning.  Permit  them  to 
remain.  I  have  to  tell  you  that  Barto  Rizzo  has  been  here  : 
he  has  started  for  Bi^escia.  I  should  have  had  to  kill  him  to 
stop  him — a  measure  that  I  did  not  undertake." 

"  Being  your  duty  !  "  remarked  Corte. 

Agostino  corrected  him  with  a  sarcasm. 

"  I  cannot  allow  the  presence  of  ladies  to  exclude  a  com- 
ment on  manifest  indifference,"  said  Corte.  "  Pass  on  to  the 
details,  if  you  have  any." 

"  The  details  are  these,"  Carlo  resumed,  too  proud  to  show 
a  shade  of  self-command ;  "  my  cousin  Angelo  leaves  Mihm 
before  morning.  You,  Colonel  Corte,  will  be  in  Bergamo  at 
noon  to-morrow.  Marco  and  Angelo  will  await  my  coming 
in  Brescia,  where  we  shall  find  Giulio  and  the  rest.  I  join 
them  at  five  on  the  following  afternoon,  and  my  arrival 
signals  the  revolt.  We  have  decided  that  the  news  from  tho 
king's  army  is  good." 

A  perceptible  shudder  in  Vittoria's  frame  at  this  conclud- 
ing sentence  caught  Corte's  eye. 

"Are  you  dissatisfied  with  that  arrangement?"  lie 
addressed  her  boldly. 

"  I  am.  Colonel  Corte,"  she  replied.  So  simple  was  the 
answering  tone  of  her  voice  that  Corte  had  not  a  woi-d. 

"  It    is    my    husband    who    is    going,"   Vittoria  spoke  on 


460  VITTOEIA. 

steadily ;  "  hlva.  T  am  prepared  to  sacrifice,  as  I  am  myself. 
If  he  thinks  it  right  to  throw  himself  into  Brescia,  nothing 
is  left  for  me  but  to  thank  him  for  having  done  me  the 
honour  to  consult  me.  His  will  is  firm.  I  trust  to  God  that 
he  is  wise.  I  look  on  him  now  as  one  of  many  brave  men 
whose  lives  belong  to  Italy,  and  if  they  all  are  misdirected 
and  perish,  we  have  no  more ;  we  are  lost.  The  King  is  on 
the  Ticino  ;  the  Chief  is  in  Rome.  I  desire  to  entreat  you 
to  take  counsel  before  you  act  in  anticipation  of  the  king's 
fortune.  I  see  that  it  is  a  crushed  life  in  Lombardy.  In 
Rome  there  is  one  who  can  lead  and  govern.  He  has  suffered 
and  is  calm.  He  calls  to  you  to  strengthen  his  hands.  My 
prayer  to  you  is  to  take  counsel.  I  know  the  hour  is  late ; 
but  it  is  not  too  late  for  wisdom.  Forgive  me  if  I  am  not 
speaking  humbly.  Brescia  is  but  Brescia ;  Rome  is  Italy, 
I  have  understood  little  of  my  country  until  these  last  days, 
though  I  have  both  talked  and  sung  of  her  glories.  I  know 
that  a  deep  duty  binds  you  to  Bergamo  and  to  Brescia — poor 
Milan  we  must  not  think  of.  You  ai-e  not  personally 
pledged  to  Rome :  yet  Rome  may  have  the  greatest  claims 
on  you.  The  heart  of  our  country  is  beginning  to  beat  there. 
Colonel  Corte !  Signer  Marco  !  my  Agostino !  my  cousin 
Angelo !  it  is  not  a  woman  asking  for  the  safety  of  her 
husband,  but  one  of  the  blood  of  Italy  who  begs  to  offer  you 
her  voice,  without  seeking  to  disturb  your  judgement." 

She  ceased. 

"  Without  seeking  to  disturb  their  judgement ! "  cried 
Laura.     "  Why  not,  when  the  judgement  is  in  error  ?" 

To  Laura's  fiery  temperament  Vittoria's  speech  had  been 
feebleness.  She  was  insensible  to  that  which  the  men  felt 
conveyed  to  them  by  the  absence  of  emotion  in  the  language 
of  a  woman  so  sorrowfully  placed.  "  Wait,"  she  said,  "wait 
for  the  news  from  Carlo  Alberto,  if  you  determine  to  play  at 
swords  and  guns  in  narrow  streets."  She  spoke  long  and 
vehemently,  using  irony,  coarse  and  fine,  with  the  eloquence 
which  was  her  gift.  In  conclusion  she  apostrophized  Colonel 
Corte  as  one  who  had  loved  him  might  have  done.  He  was 
indeed  that  figure  of  indomitable  strength  to  which  her 
spirit,  exhausted  by  intensity  of  passion,  clung  moi^e  than  to 
any  other  on  earth,  though  she  did  not  love  him,  scarcely 
liked  him. 

Corte  asked  her  curiously — for  she   had   surprised  and 


THE  LAST  MEETING  IN  MILAN.  461 

vexed  his  softer  side — why  she  distinguished  him  with 
such  remarkable  phrases  only  to  declare  her  contempt  for 
him. 
_  "  It's  the  flag  whipping  the  flag-pole,"  murmured  Agos- 
tino ;  and  he  now  spoke  briefly  in  support  of  the  expedition 
to  Rome ;  or  at  least  in  favour  of  delay  until  the  King  of 
Sardinia  had  gained  a  battle.  While  he  was  speaking, 
Merthyr  entered  the  room,  and  behind  him  a  messenger  who 
brought  word  that  Bergamo  had  risen. 

The  men  drew  hurriedly  together,  and  Countess  Ammiani, 
Vittoria,  and  Laura  stood  ready  to  leave  them. 

"  You  will  give  me  five  minutes  ?"  Vittoria  whispered  to 
her  husband,  and  he  nodded. 

"  Merthyr,"  she  said,  passing  him,  "can  I  have  your  word 
that  you  will  not  go  from  me  ?" 

Merthyr  gave  her  his  word  after  he  had  looked  on  her 
face. 

"  Send  to  me  every  two  hours,  that  I  may  ki'ow  you  are 
near,"  she  added ;  "  do  not  fear  waking  me.  Or,  no,  de.ir 
friend  ;  why  should  I  have  any  concealment  from  you  ?  l>e 
not  a  moment  absent,  if  you  would  not  have  me  fall  to  tho 
ground  a  second  time :  follow  me." 

Even  as  he  hesitated,  for  he  had  nrgent  stuff  to  communi- 
cate  to  Carlo,  he  could  see  a  dreadful  whiteness  rising  on  her 
face,  darkening  the  circles  of  her  eyes. 

"  It's  life  or  death,  my  dearest,  and  I  am  bound  to  live," 
she  said.     Her  voice  sprang  up  from  tears. 

Merthyr  turned  and  tried  in  vain  to  get  a  hearing  among 
the  excited,  voluble  men.  They  shook  his  hand,  patted  hia 
shoulder,  and  counselled  him  to  leave  them.  He  obrainod 
Carlo's  promise  that  he  would  not  quit  the  house  without 
granting  him  an  interview  ;  after  which  he  passed  out  to 
Vittoria,  where  Countess  Ammiani  and  Laura  sat  weeping 
by  the  door. 


462  VITTORIA. 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE  WIFE  AND  THE  HUSBAND. 

When  ttey  were  alone  Merthyr  said :  "  I  cannot  give 
many  minutes,  not  ranch  time.  I  have  to  speak  to  your 
husband." 

She  answered :  "  Give  me  many  minutes — much  time.  All 
other  speaking  is  vain  here." 

"  It  concerns  his  safety." 

"  It  will  not  save  him." 

"  But  I  have  evidence  that  he  is  betrayed.  His  plans  are 
known ;  a  trap  is  set  for  him.  If  he  moves,  he  walks  into  a 
pit." 

"  You  would  talk  reason,  Merthyr,"  Vittoria  sighed. 
*'  Talk  it  to  me.  I  can  listen ;  I  thirst  for  it.  I  beat  at  the 
bars  of  a  cage  all  day.  When  I  saw  you  this  afternoon,  I 
looked  on  another  life.  It  was  too  sudden,  and  I  swooned. 
That  was  my  only  show  of  weakness.  Since  then  you  are 
the  only  strength  I  feel." 

"  Have  they  all  become  Barto  Rizzos  ?"  Merthyr  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Beloved,  I  will  open  my  mind  to  you,"  said  Vittoria. 
*'  I  am  cowardly,  and  I  thought  I  had  such  courage !  To- 
night  a  poor  mad  creature  has  been  here,  who  has  oppressed 
me,  I  cannot  say  how  long,  with  real  fear — that  I  only  un- 
derstand now  that  I  know  the  little  ground  I  had  for  it.  I 
am  even  pleased  that  one  like  Barto  Rizzo  should  see  me  in 
a  better  light.  I  find  the  thought  smiling  in  my  heart  when 
every  other  thing  is  utterly  dark  there.  You  have  heard 
that  Carlo  goes  to  Brescia.  When  I  was  married,  I  lost 
sight  of  Italy,  and  everything  but  happiness.  I  suffer  as  I 
deserve  for  it  now.  I  could  have  turned  my  husband  from 
this  black  path ;  I  preferred  to  dream  and  sing.  1  would 
not  see — it  was  my  pride  that  would  not  let  me  see  his  error. 
My  cowardice  would  not  let  me  wound  him  with  a  single 
suggestion.  You  say  that  he  is  betrayed.  Then  he  is  be- 
trayed by  the  woman  who  has  never  been  unintelligible  to 
me.  We  were  in  Turin  surrounded  by  intrigues,  and  there 
I  thanked  her  so  much  for  leaving  me  the  days  with  ray 


THE  WIFE  ANE  TEE  HUSIAND.  463 

husband  by  Lake  Orta  that  I  did  not  seek  to  open  his  eyes 
to  her.  We  came  to  Milan,  and  here  I  have  been  thanking 
her  for  the  happy  days  in  Turin.  Carlo  is  no  longer  to 
blame  if  he  will  not  listen  to  me.  I  have  helped  to  teach 
him  that  I  am  no  better  than  any  of  these  Italian  women 
whom  he  despises.  I  spoke  to  him  as  his  wife  should  do,  at 
last.  He  feigned  to  think  me  jealous,  and  I  too  remember 
the  words  of  the  reproach,  as  if  they  had  a  meaning.  Ah, 
my  friend  !  I  would  say  of  nothing  that  it  is  impossible,  ex- 
cept this  task  of  recovering  lost  ground  with  one  who  is 
young.  Experience  of  trouble  has  made  me  older  than  he. 
When  he  accused  me  of  jealousy,  I  could  mention  Countess 
d'Isorella's  name  no  more.  I  confess  to  that.  Yet  I  knew 
my  husband  feigned.  I  knew  that  he  could  not  conceive  the 
idea  of  jealousy  existing  in  me,  as  little  as  I  could  inuigine 
unfaithfulness  in  him.  But  my  lips  would  not  take  her 
name!  Wretched  cowardice  cannot  go  farther.  I  spoke  of 
Rome.  As  often  as  I  spoke,  that  name  was  enough  to  shake 
me  off :  he  had  but  to  utter  it,  and  I  became  dumb.  He  did 
it  to  obtain  peace ;  for  no  other  cause.  So,  by  degrees,  I  have 
learnt  the  fatal  truth.  He  has  trusted  her,  for  she  is  very 
skilful ;  distrusting  her,  for  she  is  treacherous.  He  has, 
therefore,  believed  excessively  in  his  ability  to  make  use  of 
her,  and  to  counteract  her  baseness.  I  saw  his  error  from 
the  first ;  and  I  went  on  dreaming  and  singing ;  and  now  this 
night  has  come !" 

Vittoria  shadowed  her  eyes. 

*'  I  will  go  to  him  at  once,"  said  Merthyr. 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  relieved.  Go,  dear  friend,"  she  sobbed ;  "  you 
have  given  me  tears,  as  I  hoped.  You  will  not  turn  him  ; 
had  it  been  possible,  could  I  have  kept  you  from  him  so 
long  ?  I  know  that  you  will  not  turn  him  from  his  purpose, 
for  I  know  what  a  weight  it  is  that  presses  him  forward  in 
that  path.  Do  not  imagine  our  love  to  be  broken.  He  will 
convince  you  that  it  is  not.  He  has  the  nature  of  an  angel. 
He  permitted  me  to  speak  before  these  men  to-night — feeble 
thing  that  I  am  !  It  was  a  last  effort.  I  might  as  well  havo 
tried  to  push  a  rock." 

She  rose  at  a  noise  of  voices  in  the  hall  below. 

"  They  are  going,  Merthyr.  See  him  now.  There  may  be 
help  in  heaven;  if  one  could  think  it!    If  help  were  given  to 


464  VITTORIA. 

this  country — if  help  were  only  visible!     Tlie  want  of  it 
makes  us  all  without  faith." 

"  Hush  !  you  may  hear  good  news  from  Carlo  Alberto  in  a 
few  hours,"  said  ]\Ierthyr. 

"  Ask  Laura ;  she  has  witnessed  how  he  can  be  shattered," 
Vittoria  replied  bitterly. 

Merthyr  pressed  her  fingers.  He  was  met  by  Carlo  on  the 
stairs. 

"  Quick  !"  Carlo  said  ;  "  I  have  scarce  a  minute  to  spare. 
I  have  my  adieux  to  make,  and  the  tears  have  set  in  already. 
First,  a  request :  you  will  promise  to  remain  beside  my  wife ; 
she  will  want  more  than  her  own  strength." 

Such  a  request,  coming  from  an  Italian  husband,  was  so 
great  a  proof  of  the  noble  character  of  his  love  and  his 
knowledge  of  the  woman  he  loved,  that  Merthyr  took  him 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  him. 

"  Get  it  over  quickly,  dear  good  fellow,"  Carlo  murmured  ; 
"  you  have  something  to  tell  me.  Whatever  it  is,  it's  air ; 
but  I'll  listen." 

They  passed  into  a  vacant  room. 
*'  You  know  you  are  betrayed,"  Merthyr  began. 
"  Not  exactly  that,"  said  Carlo,  humming  carelessly. 
"  Positively  and  absolutely.     The  Countess  d'Isorella  has 
Bold  your  secrets." 

"  I  commend  her  to  the  profit  she  has  made  by  it." 
"  Do  you  play  with  your  life  ?" 

Carlo  was  about  to  answer  in  the  tone  he  had  assumed 
for  the  interview.     He  checked  the  laugh  on  his  lips. 

"  She  must  have  some  regard  for  my  life,  such   as  it's 
worth,  since,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  she  is  in  the  house  now, 
and  came  here  to  give  me  fair  warning." 
"  Then,  you  trust  her." 

"  I  ?  Not  a  single  woman  in  the  world ! — that  is,  for  a 
conspiracy." 

It  was  an  utterly  fatuous  piece  of  speech.  Merthyr 
allowed  it  to  slip,  and  studied  him  to  see  where  he  was 
vulnerable. 

"  She  is  in  the  house,  you  say.  Will  you  cause  her  to 
come  before  me  P" 

"  Curiously,"  said  Carlo,  "  I  kept  her  for  some  purpose 
of  the  sort.  Will  I  ?  and  have  a  scandal  now  ?  Oh !  no- 
Let  her  sleep." 


TEE  WIFE  AND  THE  HUSBAND.  465 

Whether  he  spoke  from  noble-mindedness  or  indifference 
Merthvr  could  not  guess. 

"  I  have  a  message  from  your  friend  Luciano.  He  sends 
you  his  love,  in  case  he  should  be  shot  the  first,  and  says 
thnt  when  Lombardy  is  free  he  hopes  you  will  not  foro-'et 
old  comrades  who  are  in  Rome." 

"  Forget  him !  I  would  to  God  I  could  sit  and  talk  of  him 
for  houi-s.     Luciano  !  Luciano  !     He  has  no  wife." 

Carlo  spoke  on  hoarsely.  "  Tell  me  what  authority  you 
have  for  charging  Countess  d'Isorella  with  .  .  .  with  what- 
ever it  may  be." 

"  A  conversation  between  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein 
and  a  Major  Nagen,  in  the  Duchess  of  Graatli's  house,  was 
overheard  by  our  Beppo.  They  spoke  German.  The  rascal 
had  a  German  sweetheart  with  him.  She  imprisoned  him 
for  some  trespass,  and  had  come  stealing  in  to  rescue  him, 
when  those  two  entered  the  room.  Countess  Anna  detailed 
to  Nagen  the  course  of  your  recent  plotting.  She  named  the 
hour  this  morning  when  you  are  to  start  for  Brescia.  She 
stated  what  force  you  have,  what  arms  you  expect;  she 
named  you  all." 

"  iSTagen — Nagen,"  Carlo  repeated ;  "  the  man's  unknown 
to  me." 

"  It's  sufficient  that  he  is  an  Austrian  officer." 

"  Quite.  She  hates  me,  and  she  has  reason,  for  she's 
aware  that  I  mean  to  fight  her  lover,  and  choose  my  time. 
The  blood  of  my  friends  is  on  that  man's  head." 

"I  will  finish  what  I  have  to  say,"  pursued  Mcrthyr. 
"  When  Beppo  had  related  as  much  as  he  could  make  out 
from  his  sweetheart's  translation,  I  went  straight  to  the 
duchess.  She  is  an  Austrian,  and  a  good  and  reasonable 
woman.  She  informed  me  that  a  letter  addressed  by  Countess 
Anna  to  Countess  d'Isorella  fell  into  her  hands  this  night. 
She  burnt  it  unopened.  I  leave  it  to  you  to  consider  whether 
you  have  been  betrayed  and  who  has  betrayed  you.  Tlio 
secret  was  bought.  Bep])o  himself  caught  the  words,  'from 
a  mercenary  Italian.'  The  dufhoss  tells  me  that  Countess 
Anna  is  in  the  habit  of  alluding  to  Countess  d'Isorella  in 
those  terms." 

Carlo  stretched  his  arms  like  a  man  who  cannot  hido  the 
yawning  fit. 

2u 


4(53  VITTORIA. 

"  I  promised  my  wife  five  minutes,  thougli  we  have  Lad 
the  worst  of  the  parting  over.  Perhaps  you  will  wait  for 
me ;  I  may  have  a  word  to  say." 

He  was  absent  for  little  more  than  the  space  named. 
When  he  returned,  he  was  careful  to  hide  his  face.  He 
locked  the  door,  and  leading  Merthyr  to  an  inner  room,  laid 
his  watch  on  the  table,  and  said :  "  Now,  friend,  you  will 
see  that  I  have  nothing  to  shrink  from,  for  I  am  going  to 
do  execution  upon  myself,  and  before  him  whom  I  would, 
above  all  other  men,  have  think  well  of  me.  My  wife  sup- 
poses that  I  am  pledged  to  this  Brescian  business  because 
I  am  insanely  patriotic.  If  I  might  join  Luciano  to-morrow 
I  would  shout  like  a  boy.  I  would  be  content  to  serve  as 
the  lowest  in  the  ranks,  if  I  might  be  with  you  all  under  the 
Chief.  Rome  crowns  him,  and  Brescia  is  my  bloody  ditch, 
and  it  is  deserved !  When  I  was  a  little  younger — I  am  a 
boy  still,  no  doubt — I  had  the  honour  to  be  distinguished  by 
a  handsome  woman ;  and  when  I  gi-ew  a  little  older,  I  dis- 
covered by  chance  that  she  had  wit.  The  lady  is  the  Coun- 
tess Violetta  d'Isorella.  It  is  a  grief  to  me  to  know  that  she 
is  sordid :  it  hurts  my  vanity  the  moi-e.  Perhaps  you  begin 
to  perceive  that  vanity  governs  me.  The  Signora  Laura  has 
not  expressed  her  opinion  on  this  subject  with  any  reserve, 
but  to  Violetta  belongs  the  merit  of  having  seen  it  without 
waiting  for  the  signs.  First — it  is  a  small  matter,  but  you 
are  English — let  me  assure  you  that  my  wife  has  had  no 
rival.  I  have  taunted  her  with  jealousy  when  I  knew  that 
it  was  neither  in  her  nature  to  feel  it,  nor  in  mine  to  give 
reason  for  it.  No  man  who  has  a  spark  of  his  Maker  in  him 
could  be  unfaithful  to  such  a  woman.  When  Lombardy  was 
crushed,  we  were  in  the  dust.  I  fancy  we  none  of  us  knew 
how  miserably  we  had  fallen — we,  as  men.  The  purest — I 
daresay,  the  bravest — marched  to  Rome.  God  bless  my 
Luciano  there  !  But  I,  sir,  I,  ray  friend,  I,  Merthyr,  I  said 
proudly  that  I  would  not  abandon  a  beaten  country :  and  I 
was  admired  for  my  devotion.  The  dear  old  poet,  Agostino, 
praised  me.  It  stopped  his  epigrams — during  a  certain  time 
at  least.  Colonel  Corte  admired  me.  Marco  Sana,  Giulio 
Bandinelli  admired  me.  Vast  numbers  admired  me.  I  need 
not  add  that  I  admired  myself.  I  plunged  into  intrigues 
with  princes,  and  priests,  and  republicans.  A  clever  woman 
was  at  my  elbow.     In  the  midst  of  all  this,  my  marriage  :  I 


THE  WIFE  AND  THE  HUSBAND.  467 

had  seven  weelvs  of  peace ;  and  then  I  saw  "what  I  was. 
You.  feel  that  you  are  tired,  when  you  want  to  go  another 
way  :  and  you  feel  that  you  have  been  mad  when  you  want 
to  undo  your  work.  But  I  could  not  break  the  chains  I  had 
wrought,  for  I  was  a  chief  of  followers.  The  men  had  come 
from  exile,  or  they  had  refused  to  join  the  Roman  enter- 
prise : — they,  in  fact,  had  bound  themselves  to  me  ;  and  that 
means,  I  was  irrevocably  bound  to  them.  I  had  an  insult  to 
wipe  out :  I  refrain  from  doing  it,  sincei'cly,  I  may  tell  you, 
on  the  gi'ound  that  this  admired  life  of  mine  was  precious. 
I  will  heap  no  more  chimsy  irony  on  it :  I  can  pity  it.  Do 
you  see  now  how  I  stand  V  I  know  that  I  cannot  rely  on  the 
king's  luck  or  on  the  skill  of  his  generals,  or  on  the  power  of 
his  army,  or  on  the  spirit  in  Lombardy :  neither  on  men  nor 
on  angels.  But  I  cannot  draw  back.  I  have  set  going  a 
machine  that's  merciless.  From  the  day  it  began  working, 
every  moment  has  added  to  its  force.  Do  not  judge  me  by 
your  English  eyes  : — other  lands,  other  habits  ;  other  habits, 
other  thoughts.  And  besides,  if  honour  said  nothing,  simple 
humanity  would  preserve  me  from  leaving  my  band  to  perish 
like  a  flock  of  sheep." 

He  uttered  this  with  a  profound  conviction  of  his  quality 
as  leader  that  escaped  the  lurid  play  of  self-inspection  which 
characterized  what  he  had  previously  spoken,  and  served 
singularly  in  bearing  witness  to  the  truth  of  his  charge 
against  himself. 

"  Useless  ! "  he  said,  waving  his  hand  at  anticipated  remon- 
strances. "  Look  with  the  eyes  of  my  country ;  not  with 
your  own,  my  friend.  I  am  disgraced  if  I  do  not  go  out. 
My  friends  are  disgraced  if  I  do  not  head  them  in  Brescia — 
saci'ificed  ! — murdered  ! — how  can  I  say  what  ?  Can  1  live 
under  disgrace  or  remorse  ?  The  king  stakes  on  his  army  ; 
I  on  the  king.  Whether  he  fights  and  wins,  or  fights  and 
loses,  I  go  out.  I  have  promised  my  men — promised  them 
success,  1  believe ! — God  forgive  me  !  Did  you  ever  see  a 
fated  man  before  ?  None  had  plotted  against  me.  I  have 
woven  my  own  web,  and  that's  the  fatal  lliing.  I  have  a 
wife,  the  sweetest  woman  of  her  time.  Goud-night  to  her! 
our  parting  is  over." 

He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  Perhaps  she  will  bo  at  the 
door  below.  Her  heart  beats  like  mine  just  now.  You  wish 
to   say  that  you  think  me  betrayed,   and  therefore  I  may 

2h  2 


468  VITTOEIA. 

draw  back  ?  Did  you  not  hear  that  Bergamo  has  risen  ? 
The  Brescians  are  up  too  by  this  time.  Gallant  Brescians  ! 
they  never  belie  the  proverb  in  their  honour ;  and  to  die 
among  them  would  be  sweet  if  I  had  all  my  manhood  about 
me.     Shall  I  call  down  Yioletta  d'Isorella  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  see  her ;  set  the  woman  face  to  face  with  me  ! " 
cried  Merthyr,  sighting  a  gleam  of  hope. 

"  And  have  the  poor  wretch  on  her  knees,  and  the  house 
buzzing  ?"  Carlo  smiled.  "  Can  she  bear  my  burden 
though  she  be  ten  times  guilty  ?  Let  her  sleep.  The 
Brescians  are  up : — that's  an  hour  that  has  struck,  and 
there's  no  calling  it  to  move  a  step  in  the  rear.  Brescia 
under  the  big  Eastern  hill  which  throws  a  cloak  on  it  at  sun- 
rise !  Brescia  is  always  the  eagle  that  looks  over  Lombardy ! 
And  Bergamo  !  you  know  the  terraces  of  Bergamo.  Aren't 
they  like  a  morning  sky  ?  Dying  there  is  not  death ;  it's 
flying  into  the  dawn.  You  Romans  envy  us.  Come,  confess 
it;  you  envy  us.  You  have  no  Alps,  no  crimson  hills, 
nothing  but  old  walls  to  look  on  while  you  fight.  Farewell, 
Merthyr  Powys.  I  hear  my  servant's  foot  outside.  My  horse 
is  awaiting  me  saddled,  a  mile  from  the  city.  Perhaps  I 
shall  see  my  wife  again  at  the  door  below,  or  in  heaven. 
Addio !  Kiss  Luciano  for  me.  Tell  him  that  1  knew  myself 
as  well  as  he  did,  before  the  end  came.  Enrico,  Emilio,  and 
the  others — tell  them  I  love  them.  I  doubt  if  there  will  ever 
be  but  a  ghost  of  me  to  fight  beside  them  in  Rome.  And 
there's  no  honour,  Merthyr,  in  a  ghost's  fighting,  because 
he's  shot-proof ;  so  I  won't  say  what  the  valiant  disembodied 
I  may  do  by-and-by." 

He  held  his  hands  out,  with  the  light  soft  smile  of  one 
who  asks  forgiveness  for  flippant  speech,  and  concluded 
firmly :  "  I  have  talked  enough,  and  you  are  the  man  of 
sense  I  thought  you  ;  for  to  give  me  advice  is  childish 
when  no  power  on  earth  could  make  me  follow  it.  Addio  ! 
Kiss  me." 

They  embraced.  Merthyr  said  no  more  than  that  he 
would  place  messengers  on  the  road  to  Brescia  to  carry  news 
of  the  king's  army.  His  voice  was  thick,  and  when  Carlo 
laughed  at  him,  his  sensations  strangely  reversed  their 
situations. 

There  were  two  cloaked  figures  at  difi^erent  points  in  the 
descent   of  the   stairs.      These    rose    severally   at   Carlos 


PATHS  CONVEROma  TO  THE  END.  469 

approach,  took  him  to  their  hosoms,  and  kissed  him  in 
silence.  They  were  his  mother  and  Laura.  A  third 
cronched  by  the  door  of  the  courtyard,  which  was  his  wife. 

Merthyi'  kept  aloof  until  the  heavy  door  rolled  a  long  dull 
sound.  Vittoria's  head  was  shawled  over.  She  stood  where 
her  husband  had  left  her,  groping  for  him  with  one  hand, 
that  closed  tremblingly  hard  on  Merthyr  when  he  touched 
it.    Not  a  word  was  uttered  in  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

SHOWS  MANY  PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  THE  END. 

Until  daylight  Merthyr  sat  by  himself,  trying  to  realize 
the  progressive  steps  of  the  destiny  which  seemed  like  a 
visible  hand  upon  Count  Ammiani,  that  he  might  know  it  to 
be  nothing  else  than  Carlo's  work.  He  sat  in  darkness  in 
the  room  where  Carlo  had  spoken,  thinking  of  him  as  living 
and  dead.  The  brilliant  life  in  Carlo  protested  against  a 
possible  fatal  tendency  in  his  acts  so  irrevocable  as  to  plunge 
him  to  destruction  when  his  head  was  clear,  his  blood  cool, 
and  a  choice  lay  open  to  him.  That  brilliant  young  life, 
that  fine  face,  the  tones  of  Carlo's  voice,  swept  about  Merthyr, 
accusing  him  of  stupid  fatalism.  Grief  stopped  his  answer 
to  the  charge ;  but  in  his  wise  mind  he  knew  Carlo  to  have 
surveyed  things  justly ;  and  that  the  Fates  are  within  us. 
Those  which  are  the  forces  of  the  outer  world  are  as  shadows 
to  the  power  we  have  created  within  us.  He  felt  this 
because  it  was  his  gathered  wisdom.  Human  compassion, 
and  love  for  the  unhappy  youth,  crushed  it  in  his  heart,  and 
he  marvelled  how  he  could  have  been  paralyzed  when  ho 
had  a  chance  of  interceding.  Can  a  man  stay  a  torrent  ? 
But  a  noble  and  fair  young  life  in  peril  will  not  allow  our 
philosophy  to  liken  it  to  things  of  nature.  The  downward 
course  of  a  fall  that  takes  many  waters  till  it  rushes  'r'e- 
sistibly  is  not  the  course  of  any  life.  Yet  it  is  true  tliat  our 
destiny  is  of  our  own  weaving.  Carlo's  involvenieiits  cast 
him  into   extreme   peril,   almost  certain  death,   uulctid  ho 


470  VITTORIA. 

abjured  his  honour,  dearer  than  a  life  made  precious  by  love. 
Merthyr  saw  that  it  was  not  vanity,  but  honour  ;  for  Carlo 
stood  pledged  to  lead  a  forlorn  enterprise,  the  ripeness  of 
his  own  scheming.  In  the  imminent  hour  Carlo  had  recog- 
nized his  position  as  Merthyr  with  the  wisdom  of  years 
looked  on  it.  That  was  what  had  paralyzed  the  older  man, 
though  he  could  not  subsequently  trace  the  cause.  Thinking 
of  the  beauty  of  the  youth,  husband  of  the  woman  who  was 
to  his  soul  utterly  an  angel,  Merthyr  sat  in  the  anguish  of 
self-accusation,  believing  that  some  remonstrance,  some 
inspired  word,  might  have  turned  him,  and  half  dreading  to 
sound  his  own  heart,  as  if  an  evil  knowledge  of  his  nature 
haunted  it. 

He  rose  up  at  last  with  a  cry.  The  door  opened,  and 
Giacinta,  Vittoria's  maid,  appeared,  bearing  a  lamp.  She 
had  been  sitting  outside,  waiting  to  hear  him  stir  before  she 
intruded.  He  touched  her  cheek  kindly,  and  thought  that 
one  could  do  little  better  than  die,  if  need  were,  in  the 
service  of  such  a  people.  She  said  that  her  mistress  was 
kneeling.  She  wished  to  make  coffee  for  him,  and  Merthyr 
let  her  do  it,  knowing  the  comfort  there  is  to  a  woman  in 
the  ministering  occupation  of  her  hands.  It  was  soon  day- 
light.    Beppo  had  not  come  back  to  the  house. 

"N"o  one  has  left  the  house  ?"  Merthyr  asked. 

*'  N'ot  since "  she  answered  convulsively. 

"  The  Countess  d'Isorella  is  here  ?" 

"Yes,  signore." 

"  Asleep  ?"  he  put  the  question  mournfully,  in  remem- 
brance of  Carlo's  "  Let  her  sleep  !" 

"  Yes,  signore  ;  like  the  first  night  after  confession." 

"  She  resides,  I  think,  in  the  Corso  Venezia.  When  she 
awakens,  let  her  know  that  I  request  to  have  the  honour  of 
conducting  her." 

"  Yes,  signore.  Her  carriage  is  still  at  the  gates.  The 
countess's  horses  are  accustomed  to  stand." 

Merthyr  knew  this  for  an  insinuation  against  his  leaving, 
as  well  as  against  the  lady's  character. 

"  Let  your  mistress  be  assured  that  I  shall  on  no  account 
be  long  absent  at  any  time." 

"  Signore,  I  shall  do  so,"  said  Giacinta. 

She  brought  him  word  soon  after,  that  Countess  d'Isorella 
was  stirring.     Merthyr  met  Violetta  on  the  stairs. 


PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  THE  END.  471 

"  Can  it  be  true  ?"  she  accosted  liim  first. 

"  Count  Ammiani  lias  left  for  Brescia,"  be  replied, 

"  In  spite  of  my  warning  ?" 

Mertbyr  gave  space  for  ber  to  pass  into  tbe  room.  She 
appeared  undecided,  saying  tliat  she  bad  a  dismal  appre- 
hension of  her  not  having  dismissed  ber  coachman  over-night. 

"  In  spite  of  my  warning,"  she  murmured  again,  "  he  has 
really  gone  ?  Surely  I  cannot  have  slept  more  than  three 
hours." 

"  It  was  Count  Ammiani's  wish  that  you  should  enjoy 
your  full  sleep  undisturbed  in  his  house,"  said  Mertbyr. 
"  As  regards  your  warning  to  him,  he  has  left  Milan  per- 
fectly convinced  of  the  gravity  of  a  warning  that  comes 
from  you." 

Violetta  shrugged  lightly.  "  Then  all  wo  have  to  do  is 
to  pray  for  tbe  success  of  Carlo  Alberto." 

"  Oh  !  pardon  me,  countess,"  Mertbyr  rejoined,  "  prayers 
may  be  useful,  but  you  at  least  have  something  to  do 
besides." 

His  eyes  caught  hers  firmly  as  they  were  letting  a  wild 
look  of  interrogation  fall  on  him,  and  he  continued  with 
perfect  courtesy,  "  You  will  accompany  me  to  see  Countess 
Anna  of  Lenkenstein.  You  have  great  influence,  madamo. 
It  is  not  Count  Ammiani's  request ;  for,  as  I  informed  you, 
it  was  his  wish  that  you  should  enjoy  your  repose.  The 
request  is  mine,  because  his  life  is  dear  to  me.  Nagen,  I 
think,  is  the  name  of  the  Austrian  ofiicer  who  has  started 
for  Brescia." 

She  had  in  self-defence  to  express  surprise  while  he  spoke, 
which  compelled  her  to  meet  his  mastering  sight  and  submit 
to  a  struggle  of  vision  sufficient  to  show  him  that  he  had 
hit  a  sort  of  guilty  consciousness.  Otherwise  she  was  not 
discomposed,  and  with  marvellous  sagacity  she  accepted  the 
forbearance  he  assumed,  not  affecting  innocence  to  challenge 
it,  as  silly  criminals  always  do  when  they  are  exposed,  but 
answering  quite  in  the  tone  of  innocence,  and  so  throwing 
the  burden  by  an  appearance  of  mutual  consent  on  some 
unnamed  third  person. 

"  Certainly ;  let  us  go  to  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein, 
if  you  think  fit.  I  have  to  rely  on  your  judgcTuent.  I  quite 
abjure  my  own.  If  I  have  to  plead  for  anything,  I  am  goinjj 
before  a  woman,  remember." 


472  VITTORIA. 

"  I  do  not  forgei  it,"  said  Merthyr. 

•'  The  expedition  to  Brescia  may  be  tiiifortiiTiate,*'  she 
resumed  hurriedly ;  "  I  wish  it  had  not  been  undertaken. 
At  any  rate,  it  rescues  Count  Ammiani  from  an  expedition 
to  Rome,  and  his  slavish  devotion  to  that  priest-hating  man 
whom  he  calls,  or  called,  his  Chief.  At  Brescia  he  is  not 
outraging  the  head  of  our  religion.     That  is  a  gain." 

"  A  gain  for  him  in  the  next  world  ?"  said  Merthyr.  "  I 
believe  that  Countess  Anna  of  Lenkenstein  is  also  a  fervent 
Catholic  ;  is  she  not  ?" 

"  I  trust  so." 

*'  On  behalf  of  her  peace  of  mind,  I  trust  so,  too.  In  that 
case,  she  also  must  be  a  sound  sleej^er." 

"  We  shall  have  to  awaken  her.  What  excuse — what  am 
I  to  say  to  her  ?" 

"  I  beg  you  to  wait  for  the  occasion.  Countess  d'Isorella. 
The  words  will  come." 

Violetta  bit  her  lip.  She  had  consented  to  this  extra- 
ordinary step  in  an  amazement.  As  she  contemplated  it 
now,  it  seemed  worse  than  a  partial  confession  and  an  appeal 
to  his  generosity.  She  broke  out  in  pity  for  her  horses  ;  in 
dread  of  her  coachman,  declaring  that  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  give  him  the  order  to  drive  her  anywhere  but  home. 

"  With  your  permission,  countess,  I  will  undertake  to  give 
him  the  order,"  said  Merthyr. 

"  But  have  you  no  compassion,  Signor  Powys  ?  and  you  are 
an  Englishman !  I  thought  that  Englishmen  were  excess- 
ively compassionate  with  horses." 

"  They  have  been  known  to  kill  them  in  the  service  of  their 
friends,  nevertheless." 

"  Well !"—  Violetta  had  recourse  to  the  expression  of  her 
shoulders — "  and  I  am  really  to  see  Countess  Anna  ?" 

"  In  my  presence." 

"  Oh  !  that  cannot  be.  Pardon  me  ;  it  is  impossible.  She 
will  decline  the  scene.  I  say  it  with  the  utmost  sincerity : 
I  know  that  she  will  refuse." 

''  Then,  countess,"  Merthyi-'s  face  grew  hard,  "if  I  am  not 
to  be  in  your  company  to  prompt  you,  allow  me  to  instruct 
you  beforehand." 

Violetta  looked  at  hira  eagerly,  as  one  looks  for  tidings, 
with  an  involuntary  beseeching  quiver  of  the  strained 
eyelids. 


PATHS  CONVEEGINQ  TO  THE  END.  473 

"No  irony!"  she  said,  fearing  horribly  that  he  was  about 
to  throw  off  the  mask  of  irouy. 

This  desperate  effort  of  her  wits  at  the  crisis  succeeded. 

Merthyr,  not  knowing  what  design  he  had,  hopeless  of  any 
definite  end  in  tormenting  the  woman,  and  never  having  it 
in  his  mind  merely  to  punish,  was  diverted  by  the  exclama- 
tion to  speak  ironically.  "  You  can  tell  Countess  Anna  that 
it  is  only  her  temporal  sovereign  who  is  attacked,  and  that 
therefore "  he  could  not  continue. 

"  Some  affection  ?"  he  murmui'ed,  in  intense  grief. 

His  manly  forbearance  touched  her  whose  moral  wit  was 
too  blunt  to  apprehend  the  contempt  in  it. 

"  Much  affection — much  !"  Violetta  exclaimed.  "  I  have 
a  deep  affection  for  Count  Ammiani ;  an  old  friendship. 
Believe  me  !  believe  me  !  I  came  here  last  night  to  save  him. 
Anything  on  earth  that  I  can  do,  I  will  do — on  my  honour ; 
and  do  not  smile  at  that — I  have  never  pledged  it  without 
fulfilling  the  oath.  I  will  not  sleep  while  I  can  aid  in  pre- 
serving him.  He  shall  know  that  I  am  not  the  base  person 
he  has  conceived  me  to  be.  You,  Signer  Powys,  are  not  a 
man  to  paint  all  women  black  that  are  a  little  less  than 
celestial — are  you  ?  I  am  told  it  is  a  trick  with  your  countiy- 
men  ;  and  they  have  a  poet  who  knew  us  !  I  entreat  you  to 
confide  in  me.  1  am  at  present  quite  unaware  that  Count 
Ammiani  runs  particular — I  mean  personal — danger.  He  is 
in  danger,  of  com^se ;  every  one  can  see  it.  But,  on  my 
honour — and  never  in  my  life  have  I  spoken  so  earnestly,  my 
friends  would  hardly  recognize  me — I  declare  to  you  on  my 
faith  as  a  Christian  lady,  I  am  ignorant  of  any  plot  against 
him.  I  can  take  a  Cross  and  kiss  it,  like  a  peasant,  and  swear 
to  you  by  the  Madonna  that  I  know  nothing  of  it." 

She  corrected  her  ardour,  half-exulting  in  finding  herself 
carried  so  far  and  so  swimmingly  on  a  tide  of  truth,  half 
wondering  whether  the  flowering  beauty  of  her  face  in  ex- 
citement had  struck  his  sensibility.  He  was  cold  and  specu- 
lative. 

"  Ah !"  she  said,  "  if  I  were  to  ask  my  compatriots  to  ]mt 
faith  in  a  woman's  pure  friendship  for  a  man,  I  should  know 
the  answer ;  but  you.  Signer  Powys,  wlio  have  shown  us  that 
a  man  is  capable  of  the  purest  friendship  for  a  woman, 
should  believe  me." 

He   led  her  down  to  the  gates,  where  her  coachman  sa* 


474  VITTOEIA. 

iQTLffled  in  a  three-quarter  sleep.  The  word  was  given  to 
drive  to  her  own  house ;  rejoiced  by  which  she  called  hia 
attention  deploringly  to  the  condition  of  her  horses,  requesting 
him  to  say  whether  he  could  imagine  them  the  best  English, 
and  confessing  with  regret,  that  she  killed  three  sets  a  year — 
loved  them  well,  notwithstanding.  Merthyr  saw  enough  of 
her  to  feel  that  she  was  one  of  the  weak  creatures  who  are 
strong  through  our  greater  weakness ;  and,  either  by  intuition 
or  quick  wit,  too  lively  and  too  subtle  to  be  caught  by  simple 
suspicion.  She  even  divined  that  reflection  might  tell  him 
she  had  evaded  him  by  an  artifice- — a  piece  of  gross  cajolery; 
and  said,  laughing  :  "  Concerning  friendship,  I  could  offer  it 
to  a  boy,  like  Carlo  Ammiani ;  not  to  you.  Signer  Powjs. 
I  know  that  I  must  check  a  youth,  and  I  am  on  my  guard. 
I  should  be  eternally  tormented  to  discover  whether  your 
armour  was  proof." 

"  I  dare  say  that  a  lady  who  had  those  torments  would 
soon  be  able  to  make  them  mine,"  said  Merthyr. 

"  You  could  not  pay  a  fairer  compliment  to  some  one  else,'* 
she  remarked.  In  truth,  the  candid  personal  avowal  seemed 
to  her  to  hold  up  Vittoria's  sacred  honour  in  a  crystal,  and 
the  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more  she  respected  him,  for 
his  shrewd  intelligence,  if  not  for  his  sincerity  ;  but  on  the 
whole  she  fancied  him  a  loyal  friend,  not  solely  a  clever 
maker  of  phrases ;  and  she  was  pleased  with  herself  for 
thinking  such  a  matter  possible,  in  spite  of  her  education. 

"  I  do  most  solemnly  hope  that  you  may  not  have  to 
sustain  Countess  Alessandra  under  any  affliction  whatso- 
ever," she  said  at  parting. 

Violetta  had  escaped  an  exposure — a  rank  and  naked 
accusation  of  her  character  and  deeds.  She  feared  nothing 
but  that,  being  quite  indifferent  to  opinion  ;  a  woman  who 
would  not  have  thought  it  preternaturally  sad  to  have  to 
walk  as  a  penitent  in  the  streets,  with  the  provision  of  a 
very  thick  veil  to  cover  her.  She  had  escaped,  but  the 
moment  she  felt  herself  free,  she  was  surprised  by  a  sharp 
twinge  of  remorse.  She  summoned  her  maid  to  undress  her, 
and  smelt  her  favourite  perfume,  and  lay  in  her  bed,  to 
complete  her  period  of  rest,  closing  her  eyes  there  with  a 
child's  faith  in  pillows.  Flying  lights  and  blood-blotches 
rushed  within  a  span  of  her  forehead.  She  met  this  symptom 
•jiiomptly  with  a  medical  receipt ;  yet  she  had  no  sleep  ;    nor 


PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  TUB  END.  475 

would  coffee  give  her  sleep.  Slie  shrank  from  opium  as 
deleterious  to  the  constitution,  aud  her  mind  settled  on 
music  as  the  remedy.  Some  time  after  her  ci'aving  for  it 
had  commenced,  an  Austrian  foot  regiment,  marching  to  the 
drum,  passed  under  her  windows.  The  fife  is  a  meriy 
instrument ;  fife  and  drum  colour  the  images  of  battle  gaily  ; 
but  the  dull  ringing  Austrian  step-drum,  beating  unaccom- 
panied, strikes  the  mind  with  the  real  nature  of  battles,  as 
the  salt  smell  of  powder  strikes  it,  and  more  in  horror,  more 
as  a  child's  imagination  real4zes  bloodshed,  where  the  scene 
is  a  rolling  heaven,  black  and  red  on  all  sides,  with  pitiable 
men  moving  up  to  the  mouth  of  butchery,  the  insufferable 
flashes,  the  dai-k  illumination  of  red,  red  of  black,  like  a 
vision  of  the  shadows  Life  and  Death  in  a  shadow-fight  over 
the  dear  men  still  living.  Sensitive  minds  may  be  excited 
by  a  small  stimulant  to  see  such  pictures.  This  regimental 
drum  is  like  a  song  of  the  flat-headed  savage  in  man.  It 
has  no  rise  or  fall,  but  leads  to  the  bloody  business  with  an 
unvarying  note,  and  a  savage's  dance  in  the  middle  of  the 
rhythm.  Violetta  listened  to  it  until  her  heart  quickened 
with  alarm  lest  she  should  be  going  to  have  a  fever.  She 
thought  of  Carlo  Ammiani,  and  of  the  name  of  Nagen ;  she 
had  seen  him  at  the  Lenkensteins.  Her  instant  supposition 
was  that  Anna  had  perhaps  paid  heavily  for  the  secret  of 
Carlo's  movements  on  purpose  to  place  Major  Nagen  on 
the  Brescian  highroad  to  capture  him.  Capture  meant  a 
'long  imprisoment,  if  not  execution.  Partly  for  the  sake  of 
getting  peace  of  mind — for  she  was  shocked  by  her  temporary 
inability  to  command  repose — but  with  some  hope  of  con- 
vincing Carlo  that  she  strove  to  be  of  use  to  him,  she  sent 
for  the  spy  Luigi,  and  at  a  cost  of  two  hundred  and  twenty 
Austrian  florins,  obtained  his  promise  upon  oath  to  follow 
Count  Ammiani  into  Brescia,  if  necessary,  and  deliver  to 
him  a  letter  she  had  written,  wherein  Nagcn's  name  was 
mentioned,  and  Carlo  was  advised  to  avoid  personal  risks  ; 
the  letter  hinted  that  he  might  have  incurred  a  private 
enmity,  and  he  had  better  keep  among  his  friends.  She 
knew  the  writing  of  this  letter  to  be  the  foolishost  thing  she 
had  ever  done.  Two  hundred  and  twenty  florins — the  niau 
originally  stipulated  to  have  three  hundred — was  a  liir^'-o 
Bum  to  pay  for  postage.     However,  sacrifices  must  now  and 


476  VITTOEIA. 

then  "be  made  for  friendship,  and  for  sleep.  "When  she  had 
paid  half  the  money,  her  mind  was  relieved,  and  she  had 
the  rest  which  preserves  beauty.  Luigi  was  to  be  paid  the 
other  half  on  his  return.  "  He  may  never  return,"  she 
thought,  while  graciously  dismissing  him.  The  deduction 
by  mental  aritlunetic  of  the  two  hundred  and  twenty,  or  the 
one  hundred  and  ten  florins,  from  the  large  amount  Countess 
Anna  was  bound  to  pay  her  in  turn,  annoyed  her,  though 
she  knew  it  was  a  trifle.  For  this  lady,  Milan,  Turin,  and 
Paris  sighed  deeply. 

When  he  had  left  Yioletta  at  her  house  in  the  Corso, 
Merthyr  walked  briskly  for  exercise,  knowing  that  he  would 
have  need  of  his  health  and  strength.  He  wanted  a  sight 
of  Alps  to  wash  out  the  image  of  the  woman  from  his  mind, 
and  passed  the  old  Marshal's  habitation  fronting  the 
Gardens,  wishing  that  he  stood  in  the  field  against  the  fine 
old  warrior,  for  whom  he  had  a  liking.  Near  the  walls  he 
discovered  Beppo  sitting  pensively  with  his  head  between 
his  two  fists.  Beppo  had  not  seen  Count  Ammiani,  but  he 
had  seen  Barto  Rizzo,  and  pointing  to  the  walls,  said  that 
Barto  had  di'opped  down  there.  He  had  met  him  hurrying 
in  the  Corso  France-sco.  Barto  took  him  to  the  house  of 
Sarpo,  the  bookseller,  who  possessed  a  small  printing-press. 
Beppo  described  vividly,  with  his  usual  vivacity  of  illustra- 
tion, the  stupefaction  of  the  man  at  the  apparition  of  his 
tormentor,  whom  he  thought  fast  in  prison ;  and  how  Barto 
had  compelled  him  to  print  a  proclamation  to  the  Pied- 
montese,  Lombards,  and  Venetians,  setting  forth  that  a 
battle  had  been  fought  South  of  the  Ticino,  and  that  Carlo 
Alberto  was  advancing  on  Milan,  signed  with  the  name  of 
the  Piedmontese  Pole  in  command  of  the  King's  army.  A 
second,  framed  as  an  order  of  the  day,  spoke  of  victory  and 
the  planting  of  the  green  white  and  red  banner  on  the 
Adige,  and  forward  to  the  Isonzo. 

"  I  can  hear  nothing  of  Carlo  Alberto's  victory,"  Beppo 
said  ;  "  no  one  has  heard  of  it.  Barto  told  us  how  the  battle 
was  fought,  and  the  name  of  the  young  lieutenant  who  dis- 
covered the  enemy's  flank  march,  and  got  the  artillery  down 
on  him,  and  pounded  him  so  that — signore,  it's  amazing ! 
I'm  ready  to  cry,  and  laugh,  and  howl ! — fifteen  thousand 
men  capitulated  in  a  heap  !" 


PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  THE  END.  477 

"  Don't  you  know  yon've  been  listening  to  a  madman  ?" 
said  Merthjr,  irritated,  and  thoroughly  angered  to  see 
Beppo's  opposition  to  that  view. 

"  Signore,  Barto  described  the  whole  battle.  It  began  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"When  it  was  dark!" 

"  Yes ;  when  it  was  dark.  He  said  so.  And  we  sent  up 
rockets,  and  caught  the  enemy  coming  on,  and  the  cavalry 
of  Alessandria  fell  upon  two  batteries  of  field  guns  and 
carried  them  off,  and  Colonel  Romboni  was  shot  in  his  back, 
and  cries  he,  '  Best  give  up  the  ghost  if  you're  hit  in  the 
rear.     Evviva  I'ltalia  !'  " 

"  A  Piedmontese  colonel,  you  fool !  he  would  have  shouted 
*Viva  Carlo  Alberto!'"  said  Merthyr,  now  critically  dis- 
gusted with  the  tale,  and  refusing  to  hear  more.  Two  hours 
later,  he  dispatched  Beppo  to  Carlo  in  Brescia,  warning  him 
that  for  some  insane  purpose  these  two  proclamations  had 
been  printed  by  Barto  Rizzo,  and  that  they  were  false. 

It  was  early  on  the  morning  of  a  second  day,  before  sun- 
rise, when  Vittoria  sent  for  Merthyr  to  conduct  her  to  the 
cathedral.  "  There  has  been  a  battle,"  she  said.  Her  lips 
hardly  joined  to  frame  the  syllables  in  speech.  Mertliyr 
refrained  from  asking  where  she  had  heard  of  the  battle. 
As  soon  as  the  Duomo  doors  were  open,  he  led  her  in  and 
left  her  standing  shrinking  under  the  great  vault  with  her 
neck  fearfully  drawn  on  her  shoulders,  as  one  sees  birds 
under  thunder.  He  thought  that  she  was  losing  coui-age. 
Choosing  to  go  out  on  the  steps  rather  than  look  on  her,  he 
was  struck  by  the  sight  of  two  horsemen,  who  proved  to  be 
Austrian  officers,  rattling  at  racing  speed  past  the  Duomo 
up  the  Corso.  The  sight  of  them  made  it  seem  possible  that 
a  battle  had  been  fought.  As  soon  as  he  was  free,  Meithyr 
went  to  the  Duchess  of  Graiitli,  from  whom  he  had  the  news 
of  Novara.  Tlie  officers  he  had  seen  were  Prince  Radocky 
and  Lieutenant  Wilfrid  Pierson,  the  old  Marshal's  emissaries 
of  victory.  They  had  made  a  bet  on  the  bloody  field  about 
reaching  Milan  first,  and  the  duchess  affected  to  be  full  of 
the  humour  of  this  bet  in  order  to  conceal  her  e.vultation. 
The  Lenkensteins  called  on  her ;  the  Countess  of  Lenken- 
stcin,  Anna,  and  Lena ;  and  they  were  less  considerate,  and 
drew  their  joy  openly  from  the  source  of  his  misery — a 
dreadful  house  for  Mci-thyr  to  remain  in,  but  ho  hoped  to 


478  VITTOKIA. 

see  "Wilfrid,  having  heard  the  duchess  rally  Lena  concerning 
the  deeds  of  the  white  umbrella,  which,  Lena  said,  was 
pierced  with  balls,  and  had  been  preserved  for  her.  "  The 
dear  foolish  fellow  insisted  on  marching  right  into  the  midst 
of  the  enemy  with  his  absurd  white  umbrella  ;  and  wherever 
there  was  danger  the  men  were  seen  following  it.  Prince 
Radocky  told  me  the  whole  army  was  laughing.  How  he 
escaped  death  was  a  miracle  !  "  She  spoke  unaffectedly  of 
her  admiration  for  the  owner,  and  as  Wilfrid  came  in  she 
gave  him  brilliant  eyes.  He  shook  Merthyr's  hand  without 
looking  at  him.  The  ladies  would  talk  of  nothing  but  the 
battle,  so  he  went  up  to  Merthyr,  and  under  pretext  of  an 
eager  desire  for  English  news,  drew  him  away. 

"  Her  husband  was  not  there  ?  not  at  Novara,  I  mean  ? " 
he  said. 

"  He's  at  Brescia,"  said  Merthyr. 

"Well,  thank  goodness  he  didn't  stand  in  those  ranks!" 
Wilfrid  murmured,  puffing  thoughtfully  over  the  picture 
they  presented  to  his  memory. 

Merthyr  then  tried  to  hint  to  him  that  he  had  a  sort  of 
dull  suspicion  of  Carlo's  being  in  personal  danger,  but  of 
what  kind  he  could  not  say.  He  mentioned  Weisspriess  by 
name  ;  and  Nagen ;  and  Countess  Anna.  Wilfrid  said,  "  I'll 
find  out  if  there's  anything,  only  don't  be  fancying  it.  The 
man's  in  a  bad  hole  at  Brescia.  Weisspriess,  I  believe,  is  at 
Verona.  He's  an  honourable  fellow.  The  utmost  he  would 
do  would  be  to  demand  a  duel ;  and  I'm  sure  he's  heartily 
sick  of  that  work.  Besides,  he  and  Countess  Anna  have 
quarrelled.  Meet  me  ;— by  the  way,  you  and  I  musn't  be  seen 
meeting,  I  suppose.  The  duchess  is  neutral  ground.  Come 
here  to-night.  And  don't  talk  of  me,  but  say  that  a  friend 
asks  how  she  is,  and  hopes — the  best  things  you  can  say  for 
me.  I  must  go  up  to  their  confounded  chatter  again.  Tell 
her  there's  no  fear,  none  whatever.  You  all  hate  us,  natur- 
ally ;  but  you  know  that  Austrian  officers  are  gentlemen. 
Don't  speak  my  name  to  her  just  yet.  Unless,  of  course, 
she  should  happen  to  allude  to  me,  which  is  unlikely.  I  had 
a  dismal  idea  that  her  husband  was  at  Novara." 

The  tender-hearted  duchess  sent  a  message  to  Vittoria, 
bidding  her  not  to  forget  that  she  had  promised  her  at 
Meran  to  '  love  her  always.' 

"  And  tell  her,"  she  said  to  Merthyr,  "  that  I  do  not  think 


I'ATHS  CONVERGINQ  TO  THE  END.  479 

I  shall  have  my  rooms  open  foi-  the  concert  to-morrow  ni^ht. 
I  prefer  to  let  Antonio- Pericles  go  mad.  She  will  not  sui-ely 
consider  that  she  is  bound  by  her  promise  to  him  ?  He  dra<>-8 
poor  Irma  from  place  to  place  to  make  sure  the  miserable 
child  is  not  plotting  to  destroy  his  concert,  as  that  man 
Sarpo  did.  Irma  is  half  dead,  and  hasn't  the  courage  to 
offend  him.  She  declares  she  depends  upon  him  for  her 
English  reputation.  She  has  already  caught  a  violent  cold, 
and  her  sneezing  is  frightful.  I  have  never  seen  so  abject  a 
creature.     I  have  no  compassion  at  the  sight  of  her." 

That  night  Merthyr  heard  from  Wilfrid  that  a  plot  against 
Carlo  Ammiani  did  exist.  He  repeated  things  he  had  heard 
pass  between  Countess  d'Isorella  and  Irma  in  the  chamber  of 
Pericles  before  the  late  battle.  Modestlv  confessing  that  he 
was  '  for  some  reasons  '  in  high  favour  with  Countess  Lena, 
he  added  that  after  a  long  struggle  he  had  brought  her 
to  confess  that  her  sister  had  sworn  to  have  Countess  Ales- 
sandra  Ammiani  begging  at  her  feet. 

By  mutual  consent  they  went  to  consult  the  duchess.  She 
repelled  the  notion  of  Austrian  women  conspiring.  "  An 
Austrian  noble  lady — do  you  think  it  possible  that  she  would 
act  secretly  to  serve  a  private  hatred  ?  Surely  I  may  ask 
you,  for  my  sake,  to  think  better  of  us  ?" 

Merthyr  showed  her  an  opening  to  his  ground  by  suggest- 
ing that  Anna's  antipathy  to  Vittoria  might  spring  more 
from  a  patriotic  than  a  private  source. 

"  Oh !  I  will  certainly  make  inquiries,  if  only  to  save 
Anna's  reputation  with  her  enemies,"  the  duchess  answered 
rather  proudly. 

It  would  have  been  a  Novara  to  Pericles  if  Vittoria  had  re- 
fused to  sing.  He  held  the  pecuniarily-embarrassed  duchess 
sufficiently  in  his  power  to  command  a  concert  at  her  house  ; 
his  argument  to  those  who  pressed  him  to  spare  Vittoria  in 
a  season  of  grief  running  seriously,  with  visible  contempt  of 
their  intellects,  thus:  "A  great  voice  is  an  ocean.  You 
cannot  drain  it  with  forty  dozen  opera-hats.  It  is  something 
found — an  addition  to  the  wealth  of  this  life.  Shall  we  not 
enjoy  what  we  find  ?  You  do  not  wear  out  a  picture  by 
looking  at  it ;  likewise  you  do  not  wear  out  a  voice  by  listen- 
ing to  it.  A  biid  has  wings ;— hoi-e  is  a  voice.  Wh}'  wei-e 
they  given  ?  I  should  say,  to  go  into  the  air.  Ah  ;  but  noi 
if  grandmother  is  ill.     What  is  a  grandmother  to  the  wings 


480  VITTORIA. 

and  the  voice  ?  If  to  sing  would  kill, — ^yes,  then  let  the 
puny  thing  be  silent !  But  Sandra  Belloni  has  a  soul  that 
has  not  a  husband—  except  her  Art.  Her  body  is  husbanded  ; 
but  her  soul  is  above  her  body.  You  would  treat  it  as  below. 
Art  is  her  soul's  husband  !  Besides,  I  have  her  promise. 
She  is  a  girl  who  will  go  up  to  a  loaded  gun's  muzzle  if  she 
gives  her  word.  And  besides,  her  husband  may  be  shot  to- 
morrow.    So,  all  she  sings  now  is  clear  gain." 

Vittoria  sent  word  to  him  that  she  would  sinsr. 

In  the  meantime  a  change  had  come  upon  Countess  Anna. 
Weisspriess,  her  hero,  appeared  at  her  brother's  house,  fresh 
from  the  field  of  Novara,  whither  he  had  hnrried  from 
Verona  on  a  bare  pretext  that  was  a  breach  of  military  dis- 
cipline requiring  friendly  interposition  in  high  quarters. 
Unable  to  obtain  an  audience  with  Count  Lenkenstein,  he 
remained  in  the  hall,  hoping  for  things  which  he  aifected  to 
care  nothing  for ;  and  so  it  chanced  that  he  saw  Lena,  who 
was  mindful  that  her  sister  had  suffered  much  from  passive 
jealousy  when  Wilfrid  returned  from  the  glorious  field,  and 
led  him  to  Anna,  that  she  also  might  rejoice  in  a  hero. 
Weisspriess  did  not  refrain  from  declaring  on  the  way  that 
he  would  rather  charge  against  a  battery.  Some  time  after, 
Anna  lay  in  Lena's  arms,  sobbing  out  one  of  the  wildest  con- 
fessions ever  made  by  woman : — she  adored  Weisspriess  ; 
she  hated  Nagen ;  but  was  miserably  bound  to  the  man  she 
hated.  "  Oh  !  now  I  know  what  love  is."  She  repeated  this 
with  transparent  enjoyment  of  the  opposing  sensations  by 
whose  shock  the  knowledge  was  revealed  to  her. 

"  How  can  you  be  bound  to  Major  Nagen  ?"  asked  Lena. 

"  Oh  !  why  ?  except  that  I  have  been  possessed  by  devils," 
Anna  moaned.  "  Living  among  these  Italians  has  distem- 
pered my  blood."     She  exclaimed  that  she  was  lost. 

"  In  what  way  can  you  be  lost  ?"  said  Lena. 

"  I  have  squandered  more  than  half  that  I  possess.  I  am 
almost  a  beggar.  I  am  no  longer  the  wealthy  Countess 
Anna.     I  am  much  poorer  than  any  one  of  us." 

"  But  Major  Weisspriess  is  a  man  of  honour,  and  if  he 
loves  you " 

"  Yes  ;  he  loves  me  !  he  loves  me  !  or  would  he  come  to  me 
after  I  have  sent  him  against  a  dozen  swords  ?  But  he  is 
poor;  he  must,  must  marry  a  wealthy  woman.  I  used  to 
hate  him  because  I  thought  he  had  his  eye  on  money.     I 


PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  THE  END.  481 

love  him  for  it  now.  He  deserves  wealth ;  lie  is  a  matchless 
hero.  He  is  more  than  the  first  swordsman  of  our  army ;  he 
is  a  knightly  man.  Oh  my  soul  Johann  !"  She  very  soon 
fell  to  rav^ing.  Lena  was  [implored  by  her  to  give  her  hand 
to  Weisspriess  in  reward  for  his  heroism — "  For  you  are 
rich,"  Anna  said  ;  "  you  will  not  have  to  go  to  him  feeling 
that  you  have  made  him  face  death  a  dozen  times  for  your 
sake,  and  that  you  thank  him  and  reward  him  by  being  a 
whimpering  beggar  in  his  arms.  Do,  dearest !  Will  you  ? 
Will  you,  to  please  me,  marry  Johann  ?  He  is  not  unworthy 
of  you."  And  more  of  this  hysterical  hypocrisy,  which 
brought  on  fits  of  weeping.  "  I  have  lived  among  these 
savages  till  I  have  ceased  to  be  human — forgotten  every- 
thing but  my  religion,"  she  said.  "  I  wanted  Weisspriess  to 
show  them  that  they  dared  not  stand  up  against  a  man  of 
us,  and  to  tame  the  snarling  curs.  He  did.  He  is  brave. 
He  did  as  much  as  a  man  could  do,  but  I  was  unappeasable. 
They  seem  to  have  bitten  me  till  I  had  a  devouring  hunger 
to  humiliate  them.  Lena,  will  you  believe  that  I  have  no 
hate  for  Carlo  Ammiani  or  the  woman  he  has  married  ? 
None  !  and  yet,  what  have  I  done  !"  Anna  smote  her  fore- 
head. "  They  are  nothing  but  little  dots  on  a  field  for  me. 
I  don't  care  whether  they  live  or  die.  It's  like  a  thing  done 
in  sleep," 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  have  done,"  said  Lena  caress- 
ingly. 

"  You  at  least  will  try  to  reward  our  truest  hero,  ana 
make  up  to  him  for  your  sister's  unkindness,  will  you  not  ?" 
Anna  replied  with  a  cajolery  wonderfully  like  a  sincere 
expression  of  her  wishes.  "  He  will  be  a  good  husband. 
He  has  proved  it  by  having  been  so  faithful  a — a  lover.  So 
you  may  be  sui-e  of  him.  And  when  he  is  yours,  do  not  let 
him  fight  again,  Lena,  for  I  have  a  sickening  presentiment 
that  his  next  duel  is  his  last." 

"  Tell  me,"  Lena  entreated  her,  "  pray  tell  mo  what 
horrible  thing  you  have  done  to  prevent  your  marrying 
him." 

"  With  their  pride  and  their  laughter,"  Anna  made 
answer  ;  "  the  fools  !  were  they  to  sting  us  perpetually  and 
not  Rufter  for  it  ?  That  woman,  the  Countess  Alossaiulra, 
as  she's  now  called — have  you  forgotten  that  she  lul|ii!d 
our  Paul's  assassin  to  escape  ?  was  she  not  eternally  plottin;;,' 

9.  I 


482  VITTOEIA. 

against  Austria  ?  And  I  say  that  I  love  Austria.  I  love 
my  country ;  I  plot  for  my  country.  She  and  her  husband 
plot,  and  I  plot  to  thwart  them.  I  have  ruined  myself  in 
doing  it.  Oh,  my  heart!  why  has  it  commenced  beating 
again  ?  Why  did  Weisspriess  come  here  ?  He  offended 
me.  He  refused  to  do  my  orders,  and  left  me  empty- 
handed,  and  if  he  suffers  too,"  Anna  relieved  a  hard  look 
with  a  smile  of  melancholy,  "  I  hope  he  will  not ;  I  cannot 
say  more." 

"  And  I'm  to  console  him  if  he  does  ?"  said  Lena. 

'^At  least,  I  shall  be  out  of  the  way,"  said  Anna.  "I 
have  still  money  enough  to  make  me  welcome  in  a  con- 
vent." 

"  I  am  to  marry  him  ?"  Lena  persisted,  and  half  induced 
Anna  to  act  a  feeble  part,  composed  of  sobs  and  kisses  and 
full  confession  of  her  plight.  Anna  broke  from  her  in  time 
to  leave  what  she  had  stated  of  herself  vague  and  self- 
justificatoiy,  so  that  she  kept  her  pride,  and  could  forgive, 
as  she  was  ready  to  do  even  so  far  as  to  ask  forgiveness  in 
turn,  when  with  her  awakened  enamoured  heart  she  heard 
Vittoria  sing  at  the  concert  of  Pericles.  Countess  Ales- 
sandra's  divine  gift,  which  she  would  not  withhold,  though 
in  a  misery  of  apprehension;  her  grave  eyes,  which  none 
could  accuse  of  coldness,  though  they  showed  no  emotion ; 
her  simple  noble  maimer  that  seemed  to  lift  her  up  among 
the  forces  threatening  her ;  these  expressions  of  a  superior 
soal  moved  Anna  under  the  influence  of  the  incomparable 
voice  to  pass  over  envious  contrasts,  and  feel  the  voice  and 
the  nature  were  one  in  that  bosom.  Could  it  be  the  same  as 
the  accursed  woman  who  had  stood  before  her  at  Meran  ? 
She  could  hardly  frame  the  question,  but  she  had  the 
thought  sufficiently  firmly  to  save  her  dignity ;  she  was 
affected  by  very  strong  emotion  when  Vittoria's  singing 
ended,  and  nothing  but  the  revival  of  the  recollection  of  her 
old  contempt  preserved  her  from  an  impetuous  desire  to 
take  the  singer  by  the  hand  and  have  all  clear  between 
them ;  for  they  were  now  of  equal  rank  to  tolerating  eyes. 
"  But  she  has  no  religious  warmth  !"  Anna  reflected  with  a 
glow  of  satisfaction.  The  concert  was  broken  up  by  Laura 
Piayeni.  She  said  out  loud  that  the  presence  of  Major 
Weisspriess  was  intolerable  to  the  Countess  Alessandra.  It 
happened  that  Weisspriess  entered  the  room   while  Laui*a 


Paths  converging  to  the  end.  483 

sat  studying  the  effect  produced  by  her  countrywoman's 
voice  on  the  thick  eyelids  of  Austrian  Anna,  and  Laura, 
seeing  their  enemy  ready  to  weep  in  acknowledgment  of 
their  power,  scorned  the  power  which  could  never  win  free- 
dom, and  broke  up  the  sitting,  citing  the  offence  of  the  pre- 
sence of  Weisspriess  for  a  pretext.  The  incident  threw 
Anna  back  upon  her  old  vindictiveness.  It  caused  an  un- 
pleasant commotion  in  the  duchess's  saloon.  Count  Sera- 
biglione  was  present,  and  ran  round  to  Weisspriess, 
apologizing  for  his  daughter's  behaviour.  "  Do  you  think 
I  can't  deal  with  your  women  as  well  as  your  men,  you 
ass  ?"  said  Weisspriess,  enraged  by  the  scandal  of  the 
scene.  He  was  overheard  by  Count  Karl  Lenkenstcin,  who 
took  him  to  task  sharply  for  his  rough  speech  ;  but  Anna 
supported  her  lover,  and  they  joined  hands  publicly.  Anna 
went  home  prostrated  with  despair.  "  What  conscience  is 
in  me  that  I  sbould  wish  one  of  my  Kaiser's  officers  killed  ?" 
she  cried  enigmatically  to  Lena.  "  But  I  must  have  free- 
dom. Oh  !  to  be  free.  I  am  chained  to  my  enemy,  and  God 
blesses  that  woman.  He  makes  her  wee]),  but  he  blesses 
her,  for  her  body  is  free,  and  mine, — the  thought  of  mine 
sets  flames  creeping  up  my  limbs  as  if  I  were  tied  to  the 
stake.  Losing  a  husband  you  love — what  is  that  to  taking 
a  husband  you  hate?"  Still  Lena  could  get  no  plain  con- 
fession from  her,  for  Anna  clung  to  self- justification,  and 
felt  it  abandoning-  her,  and  her  soul  fluttering  in  a  black  gulf 
when  she  opened  her  mouth  to  disburden  herself. 

There  came  tidings  of  the  bombardment  of  Brescia — one 
of  the  historic  deeds  of  infamy.  Many  officers  of  the  Impe- 
rial army  perceived  the  shame  which  it  cast  upon  their 
colours,  even  in  those  intemperate  hours,  and  Karl  Lenken- 
stcin assumed  the  liberty  of  private  friendship  to  go  com- 
plaining to  the  old  Marshal,  who  was  too  true  a  soldier  to 
condemn  a  soldier  in  action,  however  strong  his  disapproval 
of  proceedings.  The  liberty  assumed  by  Karl  was  excessive ; 
he  spoke  out  in  the  midst  of  Ccneral  officers  as  if  his  views 
were  shared  by  them  and  the  Marshal  ;  and  his  error  was 
soon  corrected  ;  one  after  another  reproached  him,  until  the 
Marshal,  pitying  his  condition,  sent  him  into  his  writing- 
closet,  where  he  lectured  tlie  youth  on  military  discipline. 
It  chanced  that  there  followed  between  them  a  question 
upon    what  the  General  in  command  at  Brescia  would  do 

2i2 


484  viTToriA. 

with  his  prisoners  ;  and  hearing  that  they  were  subject  to 
the  rigours  of  a  court-martial,  and  if  adjudged  guilty,  would 
forthwith  summarily  be  shot,  Karl  ventured  to  ask  grace  for 
Vittoria's  husband.  He  succeeded  finally  in  obtaining  his 
kind  old  Chief's  promise  that  Count  Ammiani  should  be 
tried  in  Milan,  and  as  the  bearer  of  a  paper  to  that  effect,  he 
called  on  his  sisters  to  get  them  or  Wilfrid  to  convey  word 
to  Vittoria  of  her  husband's  probable  safety.  He  found 
Anna  in  a  swoon,  and  Lena  and  the  duchess  bending  over 
her.  The  duchess's  chasseur  Jacob  Baumwalder  Feckelwitz 
had  been  returning  from  Meran,  when  on  the  Brescian  high- 
road he  met  the  spy  Luigi,  and  acting  promptly  under  the 
idea  that  Luigi  was  always  a  pestilential  conductor  of  detest- 
able correspondence,  he  attacked  him,  overthrew  him,  and 
ransacked  him,  and  bore  the  fruit  of  his  sagacious  exertions 
to  his  mistress  in  Milan ;  it  was  Violetta  d'Isorella's  letter 
to  Carlo  Ammiani.  "  I  have  read  it,"  the  duchess  said ; 
"  contrary  to  my  habits  when  letters  are  not  addressed  to 
me.  I  bring  it  open  to  your  sister  Anna.  She  catches  sight 
of  one  or  two  names  and  falls  down  in  the  state  in  which  you 
see  her," 

"  Leave  her  to  me,"  said  Karl. 

He  succeeded  in  extracting  from  Anna  hints  of  the  fact 
that  she  had  paid  a  large  sum  of  her  own  money  to  Countess 
d'Isorella  for  secrets  connected  with  the  Bergamasc  and 
Brescian  rising.  "  We  were  under  a  mutual  oath  to  be 
silent,  but  if  one  has  broken  it  the  other  cannot ;  so  I  confess 
it  to  you,  dearest,  good  brother.  I  did  this  for  my  country 
at  my  personal  sacrifice." 

Karl  believed  that  he  had  a  sister  magnificent  in  soul. 
She  was  glad  to  have  deluded  him,  but  she  could  not  endure 
his  praises,  which  painted  to  her  imagination  all  that  she 
might  have  been  if  she  had  not  dashed  her  patriotism  with 
the  low  cravings  of  vengeance,  making  herself  like  some 
abhorrent  mediseval  grotesque,  composed  of  eagle  and  reptile. 
She  was  most  eager  in  entreating  him  to  save  Count 
Ammiani's  life.  Carlo,  she  said,  was  their  enemy,  but  he 
had  been  their  friend,  and  she  declared  with  singular 
earnestness  that  she  should  never  again  sleep  or  hold  up  her 
head,  if  he  were  slain  or  captured. 

"My  Anna  is  justified  by  me  in  everything  she  has  done," 
Karl  said  to  the  duchess. 


PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  THE  END.  485 

"  In  that  case,"  the  duchess  replied,  "  I  have  only  to  differ 
"svith  her  to  feel  your  sword's  point  at  my  breast." 

"  I  should  certainly  challenge  the  man  who  doubted  her," 
said  Karl. 

The  duchess  laughed  with  a  scornful  melancholy. 

On  the  steps  of  the  door  where  his  horse  stood  saddled, 
he  met  Wilfrid,  and  from  this  promised  brother-in-law 
received  matter  for  the  challenge.  Wilfrid  excitedly  accused 
Anna  of  the  guilt  of  a  conspiracy  to  cause  the  destruction  of 
Count  Ammiani.  In  the  heat  of  his  admiration  for  his 
sister,  Karl  struck  him  on  the  cheek  with  his  glove,  and 
called  him  a  name  by  which  he  had  passed  during  the  days 
of  his  disgrace,  signifying  one  who  plays  with  two  parties. 
Lena's  maid  heard  them  arrange  to  meet  within  an  hour, 
and  she  having  been  a  Avitness  of  the  altercation,  ran  to  her 
mistress  in  advance  of  Wilfrid,  and  so  worked  on  Lena's 
terrors  on  behalf  of  her  betrothed  and  her  brother,  that  Lena 
dropped  at  Anna's  feet  telling  her  all  that  she  had  gathered 
and  guessed  in  verification  of  Wilfrid's  charge,  and  implor- 
ing her  to  confess  the  truth.  Anna,  though  she  saw  her 
concealment  pierced,  could  not  voluntarily  forego  her  brother's 
expressed  admiration  of  her,  and  clung  to  the  tatters  of 
secresy.  After  a  brief  horrid  hesitation,  she  chose  to  face 
Wilfrid.  This  interview  began  with  lively  recriminations, 
and  was  resulting  in  nothing — for  Anna  refused  to  be  shaken 
by  his  statement  that  the  Countess  d'Isorella  had  betrayed 
her,  and  perceived  that  she  was  listening  to  concrete  suspicions 
only- — when,  to  give  his  accusation  force,  Wilfrid  said  that 
Brescia  had  surrendered  and  that  Count  Ammiani  had  es- 
caped. 

"And  I  thank  God  for  it!"  Anna  exclaimed,  and  with 
straight  frowning  eyes,  demanded  the  refutation  of  her  sin- 
cerity. 

"  Count  Ammiani  and  his  men  have  five  hours'  grace  ahead 
of  Major  Nagen  and  half  a  regiment,"  said  Wilfrid. 

At  this  she  gasped ;  she  had  risen  her  breath  to  deny  or 
defy,  and  hung  on  the  top  of  it  without  a  voice. 

"  Tell  us — say,  but  do  say — confess  that  you  know  Nagen 
to  be  a  name  of  mischief,"  Lena  pi-ayed  her. 

"  I  will  say  anything  to  prevent  my  brother  from  running 
into  d:  ii;er,"  Anna  rejoined. 


486  VITTORIA. 

"  She  is  most  foully  accused  by  one  wliom  we  permitted  to 
aspire  to  be  of  our  own  family,"  said  Karl. 

"  Yet  you,  Karl,  have  always  been  the  first  to  declare  hei* 
reveno-eful,"  Lena  turned  to  him. 

*'  Help,  Karl,  help  me,"  said  Anna. 

"  Yes  !"  cried  her  sister ;  "  there  you  stand,  and  ask  for 
help,  meanest  of  women !  Do  you  think  these  men  are  not 
in  earnest  r*  Karl  is  to  help  you,  and  you  will  not  speak  a 
vvord  to  save  him  from  a  grave  before  night,  or  me  from  a 
lover  all  of  blood." 

"  Am  I  to  be  the  sacrifice  ?"  said  Anna. 

"  Whatever  you  call  it,  Wilfrid  has  spoken  truth  of  you, 
and  to  none  but  members  of  our  family  ;  and  he  had  a  right 
to  say  it,  and  you  are  bound  now  to  acknowledge  it." 

"  I  acknowledge  that  I  love  and  serve  my  country,  Lena." 

"  Not  with  a  pure  heart :  you  can't  forgive.  Insult  or  a 
wrong  makes  a  madwoman  of  you.  Confess,  Anna !  Tou 
know  well  that  you  can't  kneel  to  a  priest's  ear,  for  you've 
stopped  your  conscience.  You  have  pledged  yourself  to 
misery  to  satisfy  a  spite,  and  you  have  not  the  courage  to  ask 

for "  Lena  broke  her  speech  like  one  whose  wits  have 

been  kindled.  "  Yes,  Karl,"  she  resumed  ;  "  Anna  begged 
you  to  help  her.  You  will.  Take  her  aside  and  save  her 
from  being  miserable  for  ever.  You  do  mean  to  fight  my 
Wilfrid  ?" 

"  I  am  certainly  determined  to  bring  him  to  repentance — • 
leaving  him  the  option  of  the  way,"  said  Karl. 
.    Lena  took  her  sullen  sister  by  the  arm. 

"  Anna,  will  you  let  these  two  men  go  to  slaughter?  Look 
at  them  ;  they  are  both  our  brothers.  One  is  dearer  than  a 
brother  to  me,  and,  oh  God !  I  have  known  what  it  is  to  half- 
lose  him.  You  to  lose  a  lover  and  have  to  go  bound  by  a 
wretched  oath  to  be  the  wife  of  a  detestable  short-sighted 
husband  !     Oh,  what  an  abominable  folly  !" 

This  epithet,  '  short-sighted,'  curiously  forced  in  by  Lena, 
was  like  a  shock  of  the  very  image  of  Nagen's  needle  features 
thrust  against  Anna's  eyes ;  the  spasm  of  revulsion  in  her 
frame  was  too  quick  for  her  habitual  self-control. 

At  that  juncture  Weisspriess  opened  the  door,  and  Anna's 
eyes  met  his. 

**  You  don't  spare  me,"  she  murmured  to  Lena. 


PATHS  CONVEEGINQ  TO  THE  END. 


487 


Her  voice  trembled,  and  "Wilfrid  bent  his  bead  near  her, 
pressing  her  hand,  and  said,  "  Not  only  T,  but  Countess  Ales- 
sandra  Ammiani  exonerates  you  fi"oni  blame.  As  she  lovea 
her  country,  you  love  yours.  My  words  to  Karl  were  an 
exaggeration  of  what  I  know  and  think.  Only  tell  me  this ; 
— if  j!^agen  captures  Count  Axnmiani,  how  is  he  likely  to  deal 
with  him  ?" 

"  How  can  I  inform  you  ?"  Anna  replied  coldly  ;  but  she 
reflected  in  a  fire  of  terror.  She  had  given  Nagen  the 
prompting  of  a  hundred  angry  exclamations  in  the  days  of 
her  fever  of  hatred ;  she  had  nevertheless  forgotten  their 
parting  words  ;  that  is,  she  had  forgotten  her  mood  when  he 
started  for  Brescia,  and  the  nature  of  the  last  instructions 
she  had  given  him.  Revolting  from  the  thought  of 
execution  being  done  upon  Count  Ammiani,  as  one  quickly- 
springing  out  of  fever  dreams,  all  her  white  face  went  into 
hard  little  lines,  like  the  Avithered  snow  which  wears  away  in 
frost.  "Yes,"  she  said;  and  again,  "Yes,"  to  something 
Weisspriess  whispered  in  her  ear,  she  knew  not  clearly  what. 
Weisspriess  told  Wilfrid  that  he  would  wait  below.  As  he 
quitted  the  room,  the  duchess  entered,  and  went  up  to  Anna. 
"My  good  soul,"  she  said,  "you  have,  I  trust,  listened  to 
Major  Weisspi-iess.  Oh,  Anna!  you  wanted  revenge.  Now 
take  it,  as  becomes  a  high-born  woman  ;  and  let  your  enemy 
come  to  your  feet,  and  don't  spurn  her  when  she  is  there. 
Must  I  inform  you  that  I  have  been  to  Countess  d'Isorella 
myself  with  a  man  who  can  compel  her  to  speak  ?  But 
Anna  von  Lenkenstein  is  not  base  like  that  Italian.  Let  them 
think  of  you  as  they  will,  I  believe  yon  to  have  a  great  heart, 
I  am  sure  you  will  not  allow  personal  sentiment  to  sully 
your  devotion  to  our  country.  Show  them  that  our  Austrian 
faces  can  l)e  bi-ight ;  and  meet  her  whom  you  call  your 
enemy  ;  you  cannot  fly.  You  must  see  her,  or  you  betray 
yourself.  The  poor  creature's  husband  is  in  danger  of  cap- 
ture or  death." 

While  the  duchess's  stern  under-brcath  ran  on  hurriedly, 
convincing  Anna  that  she  had,  with  no  further  warning,  to 
fall  back  upon  her  uttermost  strength — the  name  of  Countess 
Alessandra  Ammiani  was  called  at  the  door.  Instinctively 
the  others  left  a  path  between  Vittoria  and  Anna.  It  was 
one  of  the  moments  when  the  adoption  of  a  decisive  course 
says    more   in    vindication  of  conduct  than  long   speeches 


488  VITTORIA. 

Anna  felt  that  she  was  on  her  trial.  For  the  first  time  since 
she  had  looked  on  this  woman  she  noticed  the  soft  splendour 
of  Vittoria's  eyes,  and  the  harmony  of  her  whole  figure ;  nor 
was  the  black  dress  of  protesting  Italian  mourning  any 
longer  offensive  in  her  sight,  but  on  a  sudden  pitiful,  for 
Anna  thought:  "  It  may  at  this  very  hour  be  for  her  hus- 
band, and  she  not  knowing  it."  And  with  that  she  had  a 
vision  under  her  ejelids  of  Nagen  like  a  shadowy  devil  in 
pursuit  of  men  flying,  and  striking  herself  and  Vittoria 
worse  than  dead  in  one  blow  levelled  at  Carlo  Ammiani.  A 
sense  of  supernatural  horror  chilled  her  blood  when  she 
considered  again,  facing  her  enemy,  that  their  mutual  hap- 
piness was  by  her  own  act  involved  in  the  fate  of  one  life. 
She  stepped  farther  than  the  halfway  to  greet  her  visitor, 
whose  hands  she  took.  Before  a  word  was  uttered  between 
them,  she  turned  to  her  brother,  and  with  a  clear  voice 
said : 

"  Karl,  the  Countess  Alessandra's  husband,  our  old  friend 
Carlo  Ammiani,  may  need  succour  in  his  flight.  Try  to 
cross  it ;  or  better,  get  among  those  who  are  pursuing  him, 
and  don't  delay  one  minute.     You  understand  me." 

Count  Karl  bowed  his  head,  bitterly  humbled. 

Anna's  eyes  seemed  to  inteiTOgate  Vittoria,  "Can  I  do 
more  ?"  but  her  own  heart  answered  her. 

Inveterate  when  following  up  her  passion  for  vengeance, 
she  was  fanatical  in  responding  to  the  suggestions  of 
remorse. 

"  Stay ;  I  will  despatch  Major  Weisspriess  in  my  own 
name,"  she  said.  "  He  is  a  trusty  ^lessenger,  and  he  knows 
those  mountains.  Whoever  is  the  ofiicer  broken  for  aiding 
Count  Ammiani's  escape,  he  shall  be  rewarded  by  me  to  the 
best  of  my  ability.  Countess  Alessandra,  I  have  anticipated 
your  petition;  I  hope  you  may  not  have  to  reproach  me. 
Remember  that  my  country  was  in  pieces  when  you  and  I 
declared  war.  You  will  not  suffer  without  my  suffering 
tenfold.  Perhaps  some  day  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to 
sing  to  me,  when  there  is  no  chance  of  interruption.  At 
present  it  is  cruel  to  detain  you." 

Vittoria  said  simply  :  "  I  thank  you.  Countess  Anna."  _ 

She  was  led  out  by  Count  Karl  to  where  Merthyr  awaited 
her.  All  wondered  at  the  briefness  of  a  scene  that  had 
unexpectedly  brought  the  crisis  to  many  emotions  and  pas- 


PATHS  CONVERGING  TO  THE  END.  489 

sions,  as  the  broken  "waters  of  the  sea  beat  together  and 
make  here  or  there  the  wave  which  is  topmost.  Anna's 
grand  initiative  hnng  in  their  memories  like  the  throbbing 
of  a  pulse,  so  hotly  their  sensations  swarmed  about  it,  and 
so  intensely  it  embraced  and  led  what  all  were  desii-ing. 
The  duchess  kissed  Anna,  saying  : 

"  That  is  a  noble  heart  to  which  yon  have  become  recon- 
ciled. Though  you  should  never  be  friends,  as  I  am  with 
one  of  them,  you  will  esteem  her.  Do  not  suppose  her  to 
be  cold.  She  is  the  mother  of  an  unborn  little  one,  and  for 
that  little  one's  sake  she  follows  out  every  duty  ;  she  checks 
every  passion  in  her  bosom.  She  will  spare  no  sacrifice  to 
save  her  husband,  but  she  has  brought  her  mind  to  look  at 
the  worst,  for  fear  that  a  shock  should  destroy  her  motherly 
guard." 

"  Really,  duchess,"  Anna  replied,  "  these  are  things  for 
married  women  to  hear;"  and  she  provoked  some  contempt 
of  her  conventional  delicacy,  at  the  same  time  that  in  her 
imagination  the  image  of  Vittoria  struggling  to  preserve 
this  burden  of  motherhood  against  a  tragic  mischance,  com- 
pletely humiliated  and  overwhelmed  her,  as  if  nature  had 
also  come  to  add  to  her  mortifications. 

"  I  am  ready  to  confess  everything  I  have  done,  and  to  be 
known  for  what  I  am,"  she  said. 

"  Confess  no  more  than  is  necessary,  but  do  everything 
you  can  ;  that's  wisest,"  returned  the  duchess. 

"  Ah  ;  you  mean  that  you  have  nothing  to  learn."  Anna 
shuddered. 

"  I  mean  that  you  are  likely  to  run  into  the  other  extreme 
of  disfavouring  yourself  just  now,  my  chikl.  And,"  con- 
tinued the  duchess,  "  you  have  behaved  so  splendidly  that  I 
wont  think  ill  of  you." 

Before  the  day  darkened,  Wilfrid  obtained,  through  Prince 
Radocky's  influence,  an  order  addressed  to  Major  Nagen  for 
the  surrender  of  prisoners  into  his  hands.  He  and  Count 
Kai'l  started  for  the  Val  Camonica  on  the  chance  of  inter- 
cepting the  pursuit.  These  were  not  much  wiser  than  their 
guesses  and  their  apprehensions  made  them  ;  but  Weiss- 
priess  started  on  the  like  errand  after  an  interview  with 
Anna,  and  he  had  drawn  sufficient  intelligence  out  of  sobs, 
and  broken  sentences,  and  torture  of  her  spirit,  to  understand 
that  if  Count  Ammiani  fell  alive  or  dead  into  Nagen's  hands, 


490  VITTOKIA. 

Nagen  by  Anna's  scrupulous  oath,  had  a  claim  on  her  person 
and  her  fortune :  and  lie  knew  JSTagen  to  be  a  gambler.  As 
he  was  Nagen's  superior  officer,  and  a  near  relative  of  the 
Brescian  commandant,  who  would  be  induced  to  justify  his 
steps,  his  object  was  to  reach  and  arbitrarily  place  himself 
over  Nagen,  as  if  upon  a  special  mission,  and  to  get  the  lead 
of  the  expedition.  For  that  purpose  he  struck  somewhat 
higher  above  the  Swiss  borders  than  Karl  and  Wilfrid,  and 
gained  a  district  in  the  mountains  above  the  vale  perfectly 
familiar  to  him.  Obeying  directions  forwarded  to  her  by 
Wilfrid,  Yittoria  left  Milan  for  the  Yal  Camonica  no  later 
than  the  evening ;  Laura  was  with  her  in  the  carriage ; 
Merthyr  took  horse  after  them  as  soon  as  he  had  succeeded 
in  persuading  Countess  Ammiani  to  pardon  her  daughter's 
last  act  of  wilfulness,  and  believe  that,  during  the  agitation 
of  unnumbered  doubts,  she  ran  less  peril  in  the  wilds  where 
her  husband  fled,  than  in  her  home. 

"  I  will  trust  to  her  idolatrously,  as  you  do,"  Countess 
Ammiani  said  ;  "  and  perhaps  she  has  already  proved  to  me 
that  I  may." 

Merthyr  saw  Agostino  while  riding  out  of  Milan,  and  was 
seen  by  him ;  but  the  old  man  walked  onward,  looking 
moodily  on  the  stones,  and  merely  waved  his  hand  behind. 


CHAPTER  XLYL 


IHE  LAST. 

There  is  hard  winter  overhead  in  the  mountains  when 
Italian  Spring  walks  the  mountain-sides  with  flowers,  and 
hangs  deep  valley-walls  with  flowers  half  fruit ;  the  sources 
of  the  rivers  above  are  set  about  with  fangs  of  ice,  while  the 
full  flat  stream  runs  to  a  rose  of  sunlight.  High  among  the 
mists  and  snows  were  the  fugitives  of  Brescia,  and  those 
who  for  love  or  pity  struggled  to  save  them  wandered 
through  the  blooming  vales,  sometimes  hearing  that  they 
had  crossed  the  frontier  into  freedom,  and  as  often  that  they 
were  scattered  low  in  death  and  captivity.  Austria  here. 
Switzerland  yonder,  and  but  one  depth  between  to  bound 


THE  LAST.  491 

across  and  win  calm  "breathing.  But  mountain  might  call  to 
mountain,  peak  shine  to  peak  ;  a  girdle  of  steel  drove  the 
hunted  men  back  to  frosty  heights  and  clouds,  the  shifting 
bosom  of  snows  and  lightnings.  They  saw  nothing  of  hands 
stretched  out  to  succour.  They  saw  a  sun  that  did  not  warm 
them,  a  home  of  exile  inaccessible,  crags  like  an  earth  gone 
to  skeleton  in  hungry  air;  and  below,  the  land  of  their 
bii-th,  beautiful,  and  sown  everywhere  for  them  with  tor- 
ture and  captivity,  or  death,  the  sweetest. 

Fifteen   men   numbered  the  escape  from  Brescia.     They 
fought  their  way  twice  through  passes  of  the  mountains,  and 
might  easily,  in  their  first  dash  Northward  from  the  South- 
facing  hills,  have  crossed  to  the  Valteline  and  Engadine,  but 
that  in   their   insanity  of  anguish  they   meditated  another 
blow,  and  were  readier  to  march  into  the  plains  with  the 
tricolor  than  to    follow    any  course    of    flight.     When    the 
sun  was  no  longer  in  their  blood  they  thought  of  reason  and 
of  rest ;  they  voted  the  expedition  to  Switzerland,  that  so 
they  should  get  round   to  Rome,  and  descended  from  the 
crags  of  the  Tonale,  under  which    they  were  drawn  to  an 
ambush,  suffering  three  of  their  party  killed,  and  each  man 
bloody  with  wounds.     The  mountain  befriended  them,  and 
gave  them  safety,  as    truth    is    given  by    a   bitter    friend. 
Among  icy  crass  and  mists,  where  the  touch  of  life  grows 
dull  as  the  nail  of  a  forefinger,  the  features  of  the  moun- 
tain were  stamped  on  them,  and  with  hunger  they  lost  pride, 
and  with  solitude  laughter ;   with  endless  fleeing  they  lost 
the  aim  of  flight ;    some  became  desperate,  a  few  craven. 
Companionship    was   broken   before   they   parted   in    three 
bodies,    commanded     severally    by    Colonel     Corte,    Carlo 
Ammiani,    and   Barto   E-izzo.       Corte    reached   the   plains, 
masked   by   the    devotion   of   Carlo's  band,  who  lured  the 
soldiery  to  a  point  and  drew  a  chase,  while  Corte  passed  the 
line  and   pushed   on  for    Switzerland.      Carlo   told   off    his 
cousin  Angelo   Guidascarpi    in  the   list  of    those  following 
Corte ;  but  when  he  fled  up  to  the  snows  again,  he  beheld 
Angelo  spectral  as  the  vapour  on  a  jut  of  rock  awaiting  him. 
Barto  Rizzo  had  chosen   his  own  way,  none  knew  whither. 
Carlo,  Angelo,  Marco  Sana,  and  a  sharply- wounded  Brescian 
lad,   conceived    the  scheme  of  traversing  the  South  Tyrol 
mountain-range   toward   Friuli,   whence    Venice,   the    still- 
breathing  republic,  might  possibly  be  gained.     They  carried 


492  VITTORIA. 

the  boy  in  turn  till  his  arms  drooped  long-  down,  and  when 
they  knew  the  soul  was  out  of  him  they  buried  him  in  snow, 
and  thought  him  happy.  It  was  then  that  Marco  Sana  took 
his  death  for  an  omen,  and  decided  them  to  turn  their  heads 
once  more  for  Switzerland ;  telling  them  that  the  boy, 
whom  he  last  had  carried,  uttered  "  Rome"  with  the  flying 
breath.  Angelo  said  that  Sana  would  get  to  Rome ;  and 
Carlo,  smiling  on  Angelo,  said  they  were  to  die  twins  though 
they  had  been  born  only  cousins.  The  language  they  had 
fallen  upon  was  mystical,  scarce  intelligible  to  other  than 
themselves.  On  a  clear  morning,  with  the  Swiss  peaks  in 
sight,  they  were  condemned  by  want  of  food  to  quit  their 
fastness  for  the  valley. 

Vittoria  read  the  faces  of  the  mornings  as  human  creatures 
have  tried  to  g-ather  the  sum  of  their  destinies  off  chano-iner 
surfaces, — fair  not  meaning  fair,  nor  black  black,  but  either 
the  mask  upon  the  secret  of  God's  terrible  will ;  and  to  learn 
it  and  submit,  was  the  spiritual  burden  of  her  motherhood, 
that  the  child  leaping  with  her  heart  might  live.  Not  to 
hope  blindly,  in  the  exceeding  anxiousness  of  her  passionate 
love,  nor  blindly  to  fear ;  not  to  let  her  soul  fly  out  among 
the  twisting  chances ;  not  to  sap  her  great  maternal  duty 
by  afi^ecting  false  stoical  serenity : — to  nurse  her  soul's 
strength,  and  suckle  her  womanly  weakness  with  the  tears 
which  are  poison  when  repressed ;  to  be  at  peace  with  a 
disastrous  world  for  the  sake  of  the  dependent  life  unborn; 
by  such  pure  efforts  she  clung  to  God.  Soft  dreams  of  sacred 
nuptial  tenderness,  tragic  images,  wild  pity,  were  like  phan- 
toms  encircling  her,  plucking  at  her  as  she  went,  but  they 
were  beneath  her  feet,  and  she  kept  them  from  lodging 
between  her  breasts.  The  thought  that  her  husband,  though 
he  should  have  perished,  was  not  a  life  lost  if  their  child 
lived,  sustained  her  powerfully.  It  seemed  to  whisper  at 
times  almost  as  it  were  Carlo's  ghost  bx"eathing  in  her  ears : 
"  On  thee  !"  On  her  the  further  duty  devolved  ;  and  she 
trod  down  hope,  lest  it  should  build  her  up  and  bring  a 
shock  to  surprise  her  fortitude :  she  put  back  alarm. 

The  mountains  and  the  valleys  scarce  had  names  for  her 
understanding;  they  were  but  a  scene  where  the  will  of  her 
Maker  was  at  work.  Rarely  has  a  soul  been  so  subjected 
by  its  own  force.  She  certainly  had  the  image  of  God  ia 
her  mind. 


THE  LAST.  493 

Yet  when  her  eyes  lingered  on  any  mountain  gorge,  the 
fate  of  her  husband  sang  within  it  a  strange  chant,  endincf 
in  a  key  that  rang  sounding  through  all  her  being,  and 
seemed  to  question  heaven.  This  music  framed  itself;  it 
was  still  when  she  looked  at  the  shrouded  mountain-tops. 
A  shadow  meeting  sunlight  on  the  long  green  slopes  aroused 
it,  and  it  hummed  above  the  tumbling  hasty  foam,  and  pene- 
trated hanging  depths  of  foliage,  sad-hued  rock-clefts,  dark 
green  ravines  ;  it  became  convulsed  where  the  mountain 
threw  forward  in  a  rushing  upward  line  against  the  sky, 
there  to  be  severed  at  the  head  by  cloud.  It  was  silent 
among  the  vines. 

Most  painfully  did  human  voices  affect  her  when  she  had 
this  music ;  speech  was  a  scourge  to  her  sense  of  hearing, 
and  touch  distressed  her:  an  edge  of  purple  flame  would 
then  unfold  the  vision  of  things  to  her  eyes.  She  had  lost 
memory  ;  and  if  by  hazard  unawares  one  idea  was  projected 
by  some  sudden  tumult  of  her  enslaved  emotions  beyond 
known  and  visible  circumstances,  her  intelligence  darkened 
with  an  oppressive  dread  like  that  of  zealots  of  the  guilt  of 
impiety. 

Thus  destitute,  her  eyes  took  innumerable  pictures  sharp 
as  on  a  brass-plate :  torrents,  goat-tracks  winding  up  red 
earth,  rocks  veiled  with  water,  cottage  and  children,  strings 
of  villagers  mounting  to  the  church,  one  woman  keeling 
before  a  wayside  cross,  her  basket  at  her  back,  and  her  child 
gazing  idly  by  ;  perched  hamlets,  rolling  pasture-fields,  the 
vast  mountain  lines.  She  asked  all  that  she  saw,  "  Does  he 
live  ?"  but  the  life  was  out  of  everything,  and  these  shows 
told  of  no  life,  neither  of  joy  nor  of  grief.  She  could  only 
distantly  connect  the  appearance  of  the  white-coated  soldiery 
with  the  source  of  her  trouble.  They  were  no  more  than 
figures  on  a  screen  that  hid  the  flashing  of  the  sword  which 
renders  dumb.  She  had  charity  for  one  who  was  footsore 
and  sat  cherishing  his  ankle  by  a  village  Sjiring,  and  she 
fed  him,  and  not  until  he  was  far  behind,  thought  that  he 
might  have  seen  the  white  face  of  her  husband. 

Accurate  tidings  could  not  be  obtained,  though  the  whole 
course  of  the  vale  was  full  of  stories  of  escapes,  conflicts, 
and  captures.  Merthyr  learnt  positively  that  some  fugitives 
had  passed  the  cordon.  He  came  across  Wilfrid  and  Count 
Karl,   who  both  verified   it  in  the  most  sanguine  manncjr. 


494  VITTORIA. 

They  knew,  however,  that  Major  Nagen  continued  in  the 
mountains.  Riding  by  a  bend  of  the  road,  Merthyr  beheld 
a  man  playing  among  children,  with  one  hand  and  his  head 
down  apparently  for  concealment  at  his  approach.  It  proved 
to  be  Beppo.  The  man  believed  that  Count  Ammiani  had 
fled  to  Switzerland.  Barto  Rizzo,  he  said,  was  in  the 
mountains  still,  and  Beppo  invoked  damnation  on  him,  as 
the  author  of  those  lying  proclamations  which  had  ruined 
Brescia.  He  had  got  out  of  the  city  later  tnan  the  others, 
and  was  seeking  to  evade  the  outposts,  that  he  might  join 
his  master — "  that  is,  my  captain,  for  I  have  only  one 
miaster ;"  he  corrected  the  slip  of  his  tongue  appealingly  to 
Merthyr.  His  left  hand  was  being  continually  plucked  at 
by  the  children  while  he  talked,  and  after  Merthyr  had 
dispersed  them  with  a  shower  of  small  coin,  he  showed  the 
hand,  saying,  glad  of  eye,  that  it  had  taken  a  sword-cut 
intended  for  Count  Ammiani.  Merthyr  sent  him  back  to 
mount  the  carriage,  enjoining  him  severely  not  to  speak. 

When  Carlo  and  his  companions  descended  from  the 
mountains,  they  entered  a  village  where  there  was  an  inn 
I'ecognized  by  Angelo  as  the  abode  of  Jacopo  Cruchi.  He 
there  revived  Carlo's  animosity  toward  Weisspriess  by  tell- 
ing the  tale  of  the  passage  to  Meran,  and  his  good  reasons 
for  determining  to  keep  guard  over  the  Countess  Alessandra 
all  the  way.  Subsequently  Angelo  went  to  Jacopo  for  food. 
This  he  procured,  but  he  was  compelled  to  leave  the  man 
behind,  and  unpaid.  It  was  dark  when  he  left  the  inn  ;  he 
had  some  difficulty  in  evading  a  flock  of  whitecoats,  and  his 
retreat  from  the  village  was  still  on  the  Austrian  side. 
Somewhat  about  midnight  Merthyr  reached  the  inn,  herald- 
ing the  carriage.  As  Jacopo  caught  sight  of  Vittoria's  face, 
he  fell  with  his  shoulders  straightened  against  the  wall,  and 
cried  out  loudly  that  he  had  betrayed  no  one,  and  mentioned 
Major  Weisspriess  by  name  as  having  held  the  point  of  his 
sword  at  him  and  extracted  nothing  better  than  a  wave  of 
the  hand  and  a  lie ;  in  other  words,  that  the  fugitives  had 
retired  to  the  Tyrolese  mountains,  and  that  he  had  shammed 
ignorance  of  Avho  they  were.  Merthyr  read  at  a  glance  that 
Jacopo  had  the  large  swallow  and  calm  digestion  for  bribes, 
anl  getting  the  fellow  alone  he  laid  money  in  view,  out  of 
which,  by  doubling  the  sum  to  make  Jacopo  correct  his  first 
statement,  and  then  by  threatening  to  withdraw  it  altogether, 


THE  LAST.  495 

he  gained  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  Angelo  Gnidascarpi 
had  recently  visited  the  inn,  and  had  started  from  it  South- 
eastward, and  that  ^lajor  Weisspriess  was  following  on  his 
track.  He  wi-ote  a  line  of  strong  entreaty  to  Weisspi-iess, 
lest  that  officer  should  perchance  relapse  into  anger  at  the 
taunts  of  prisoners  abhorring  him  with  the  hatred  of  Carlo 
and  Angelo.  At  the  same  time  he  gave  Beppo  a  consider- 
able supply  of  money,  and  then  sent  him  off,  armed  as  far  as 
possible  to  speed  Count  Ammiani  safe  across  the  borders,  if 
a  fugitive ;  or  if  a  prisoner,  to  ensure  the  best  which  could 
be  hoped  for  him  from  an  adversary  become  generous.  That 
evening  Vittoria  lay  with  her  head  on  Laura's  lap,  and  the 
pearly  little  crescent  of  her  ear  in  moonlight  by  the  window. 
So  fail-  and  young  and  still  she  looked  that  Merthyr  feared 
for  her,  and  thought  of  sending  her  back  to  Countess 
Ammiani. 

Her  first  question  with  the  lifting  of  her  eyelids  was  if  he 
had  ceased  to  trust  to  her  courage. 

"  No,"  said  Merthyr;  "there  are  bounds  to  human  strength; 
that  is  all." 

She  answered :  "  There  would  be  to  mine  if  I  had  not 
more  than  human  strength  beside  me.  I  bow  my  head, 
dearest ;  it  is  that.  I  feel  that  I  cannot  break  down  as  long 
as  I  know  what  is  passing.     Does  my  husband  live  ?" 

"Yes,  he  lives,"  said  Merthyr;  and  she  gave  him  her 
hand,  and  went  to  her  bed. 

He  leai-nt  from  Laura  that  when  Beppo  mounted  the 
carriage  in  silence,  a  fit  of  ungovernable  wild  trembling  had 
come  on  her,  broken  at  intervals  by  a  cry  that  something 
was  concealed.  Laura  could  give  no  advice  ;  she  looked  on 
MerthjT  and  Vittoria  as  two  that  had  an  incomprehensible 
knowledge  of  the  power  of  one  another's  natures,  and  the 
fiery  creature  remained  passive  in  perplexity  of  mind,  as  soft 
an  attendant  as  a  suffering  woman  could  have. 

Merthyr  did  not  sleep,  and  in  the  morning  Vittoria  said  to 
him,  "  You  want  to  be  active,  my  friend.  Go,  and  we  will 
wait  for  you  here.  I  know  that  I  am  never  deceived  by  you, 
and  when  I  see  you  I  know  that  the  truth  speaks  and  bids 
me  be  worthy  of  it.  Go  up  there,"  she  pointed  with  shot 
eyes  at  the  mountains ;  "  leave  me  to  pray  for  gi'cater 
strength.     I  am  among  Italians  at  this  inn,  and  shall  spend 


498  VITTORIA. 

money  here ;  the  poor  people  love  it."  She  smiled  a  little, 
showing  a  glimpse  of  her  old  charitable  humour. 

Merthyr  counselled  Laura  that  in  case  of  evil  tidings 
during  his  absence  she  should  reject  her  feminine  ideas  of 
expediency,  and  believe  that  she  vras  speaking  to  a  brave 
soul  firmly  rooted  in  the  wisdom  of  heaven, 

"  Tell  her? — she  will  die,"  said  Laura,  shuddering. 

"  Get  tears  from  her,"  Merthyr  rejoined ;  "  but  hide 
nothing  from  her  for  a  single  instant ;  keep  her  in  daylight. 
For  God's  sake,  keep  her  in  daylight." 

"  It's  too  sharp  a  task  for  me."  She  repeated  that  she 
was  incapable  of  it. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  look  at  your  Italy,  how  she  weeps  !  and 
she  has  cause.  She  would  die  in  her  grief,  if  she  had  no 
faith  for  what  is  to  come.  I  dare  say  it  is  not,  save  in  the 
hearts  of  one  or  two,  a  conscious  faith,  but  it's  I'eal  divine 
strength ;  and  Alessandra  Ammiani  has  it.  Do  as  I  bid  you. 
I  return  in  two  days." 

Without  understanding  him,  Laura  promised  that  she 
would  do  her  utmost  to  obey,  and  he  left  her  muttering  to 
herself  as  if  she  were  schooling  her  lips  to  speak  reluctant 
words.  He  started  for  the  mountains  with  gladdened  limbs, 
taking  a  guide,  who  gave  his  name  as  Lorenzo,  and  talked  of 
having  been  '  out '  in  the  previous  year.  "  I  am  a  patriot, 
signore  !  and  not  only  in  opposition  to  my  beast  of  a  wife,  I 
assure  you :  a  downright  patriot,  I  mean."  Merthyr  was 
tempted  to  discharge  him  at  first,  but  controlled  his  English 
antipathy  to  babblers,  and  discovered  him  to  be  a  serviceable 
fellow.  Toward  nightfall  they  heard  shots  up  a  rock-strewn 
combe  of  the  lower  slopes ;  desultory  shots  indicating  rifle- 
firing  at  long  range.  Darkness  made  them  seek  shelter  in  a 
pine- hut ;  starting  from  which  at  dawn,  Lorenzo  ran  beating 
about  like  a  dog  over  the  place  where  the  shots  had  sounded 
on  the  foregoing  day ;  he  found  a  stone  spotted  with  blood. 
Not  far  from  the  stone  lay  a  military  glove  that  bore  brown- 
crimson  finger-ends.  They  were  striking  off  to  a  dairy-hut 
for  fi-esh  milk,  when  out  of  a  crevice  of  rock  overhung  by 
shrubs  a  man's  voice  called,  and  Merthyr  climbing  up  from 
perch  to  perch,  saw  Marco  Sana  lying  at  half  length,  phot 
through  hand  and  leg.  Prom  him  Merthyr  learnt  that  Carlo 
and  Angelo  had  fled  higher  up ;  yesterday  they  had  been 


THE  LAST.  4'J7 

attacTvcd  by  Weisspriess,  who  tried  to  lure  them  to  surrender 
by  coming  forward  at  the  head  of  his  men  and  offering 
safety,  and  "  other  gabble,"  said  Marco.  He  offered  a  fair 
shot  at  his  heart,  too,  while  he  stood  below  a  rock  that 
[Marco  pointed  at  gloomily  as  a  hope  gone  for  ever;  but 
Carlo  would  not  allow  advantage  to  be  taken  of  even  the 
treacherous  sinuilation  of  chivalry,  and  only  permitted  firing 
after  he  had  returned  to  his  men.  "  I  was  hit  here  and 
here,"  said  Marco,  touching  his  wounds,  as  men  can  hardly 
avoid  doing  when  speaking  of  the  fresh  wound.  Merthyr 
got  him  on  his  feet,  put  money  in  his  pocket,  and  led  him  off 
the  big  stones  painfully.  "  They  g"ive  no  quarter,"  Marco 
assured  him,  and  reasoned  that  it  must  be  so,  for  they  had 
not  taken  him  prisoner,  though  they  saw  him  fall,  and  ran 
by  or  in  view  of  him  in  pursuit  of  Carlo.  By  this  Merthyr 
was  convinced  that  Weisspriess  meant  well.  He  left  his 
guide  in  charge  of  Marco  to  help  him  into  the  Engadine. 
Greatly  to  his  astonishment,  Lorenzo  tossed  the  back  of  his 
hand  at  the  offer  of  money.  "  There  shall  be  this  difference 
between  me  and  my  wife,"  he  remai^ked  ;  "  and  besides, 
gracious  signore,  serving  my  countrymen  for  nothing,  that's 
for  love,  and  the  Tedeschi  can't  punish  me  for  it,  so  it's  one 
way  of  cheating  them,  the  wolves !"  Merthyr  shook  his 
hand  and  said,  "  Instead  of  my  servant,  be  my  friend  ;"  and 
Loi'cnzo  made  no  feeble  mouth,  but  answered,  "  Signoi-e,  it 
is  much  to  my  honour,"  and  so  they  went  different  ways. 

Left  to  himself  ^Merthyr  set  step  vigoi-ously  u{)ward.  In- 
formation from  herdsmen  told  him  that  he  was  an  hour  off 
the  foot  of  one  of  the  passes.  He  begged  them  to  tell  any 
hunted  men  who  might  come  within  liail  that  a  friend  ran 
seeking  them.  Farther  up,  while  thinking  of  the  fine  nature 
of  that  Lorenzo,  and  the  many  men  like  him  who  could  not 
by  the  very  existence  of  nol)ility  in  their  bosoms  suffer  their 
country  to  go  through  another  generation  of  servitude,  his 
heart  bounded  immensely,  for  he  heai'd  a  shout  and  his 
name,  and  he  beheld  two  figures  on  a  rock  near  the  gorge 
where  the  mountain  opened  to  its  heights.  But  they  were 
not  Carlo  and  Angelo.  They  were  Wilfrid  and  Count  Karl, 
the  latter  of  whom  had  discerned  him  through  a  telescope. 
They  had  good  news  to  revive  him,  however:  good  at  least 
in  the  main.  Nagen  had  captured  Carlo  and  Angelo,  they 
believed;  but  they  had  left  Weisspriess  near  on  Nagcn's  de« 


2  K 


4C8  VITTORIA. 

tachment,  and  tliey  furnished  sound  military  reasons  to  show 
why,  if  Weisspriess  favoured  the  escape,  they  should  not  be 
present.    They  supposed  that  they  were  not  half  a  mile  from 
the  scene  in  the  pass  where  Nagen  was  being  forcibly  de- 
posed from  his  authority.     Merthyr  borrowed  Count  Karl's 
glass,  and  went  as  they  directed  him  round  a  bluff  of  the 
descending  hills,  that  faced  the  vale,  much  like  a  blown  and 
beaten  sea-cliff.     Wilfrid  and  Karl  were  so  certain  of  Count 
Ammiani's  safety,  that  their  only  thought  was  to  get  under 
good  cover  before  nightfall,  and  haply  into  good  quarters, 
where  the  three  proper  requirements  of  the  soldier — meat, 
wine,  and  tobacco — might  be  furnished  to  them.     After  an 
imperative  caution  that  they  should  not  present  themselves 
before  the  Countess  Alessandra,  Merthyr  sped  quickly  over 
the  broken  ground.     How  gaily  the  two  young  men  cheered 
to  him  as  he  hurried  on  !     He  met  a  sort  of  pedlar  turning 
the  blunt-faced  mountain-spur,   and  this  man  said,   "  Yes, 
sure   enough,  prisoners   had  been  taken,"  and  he  was  not 
aware  of  harm  having  been  done  to  them  ;  he  fancied  there 
was  a  quarrel  between  two  captains.     His  plan  being  always 
to  avoid  the  military,  he  had  slunk  round  and  away  from 
thena  as  fast  as  might  be.     An  Austrian  common  soldier,  a 
good-humoured  German,  distressed  by  a  fall  that  had  hurt 
his  knee-cap,  sat  within  the  gorge,  which  was  very  wide  at 
the  mouth.     Merthyr  questioned  him,  and  he,  while  mend- 
ing one  of  his  gathered  cigar-ends,  pointed  to  a  meadow  near 
the  beaten  track,  some  distance  up  the  rocks.     Whitecoats 
stood  thick  on  it.    Merthyr  lifted  his  telescope  and  perceived 
an  eager  air  about  the  men,  though  they  stood  ranged  in 
careless  order.     He  began  to  mount  forthwith,  but  amazed 
by  a  sudden  ringing  of  shot,  he  stopped,  asking  himself  in 
horror  whether  it  coiild  be  an  execution.     The  shots  and  the 
noise  increased,  until  the   confusion   of   a   positive   mellay 
reigned  above.     The  fall  of  the  meadow   swept  to  a  bold 
crag  right  over  the  pathway,  and  with  a  projection  that  seen 
sideways  made  a  vulture's  head  and  beak  of  it.    There  rolled 
a  corpse  down  the  precipitous  wave  of  green  grass  on  to  the 
crag,  where  it  lodged,  face  to  the  sky ;  sword  dangled  from 
sword-knot  at  one  wrist,  heels  and  arms  were  in  the  air,  and 
the  body  caught  midway  hung  poised  and  motionless.     The 
firing  deadened.     Then  Merthyr  drawing  nearer  beneath  the 
crag,  saw  one  who  had  life  in  him  slipping  down  toward  the 


EPILOGUE.  499 

body,  and  knew  the  man  for  Beppo.  Beppo  knocked  his 
hands  toj?ether  and  groaned  miserably,  but  flung  himself 
asti-ide  the  beak  of  the  crag,  and  took  the  body  in  his  arms, 
sprang  down  with  it,  and  lay  stunned  at  Merthyr's  feet. 
Merth^T  looked  on  the  face  of  Carlo  Ammiani. 


Epilogue. 

No  uncontested  version  of  the  tragedy  of  Count  Ammiani's 
death  passed  current  in  Milan  dui-ing  many  years.  With 
time  it  became  disconnected  from  passion,  and  took  form  in 
a  plain  narrative.  He  and  Angelo  were  captured  by  Major 
Kagen,  and  were,  as  the  soldiers  of  the  force  subsequently 
let  it  be  known,  roughly  threatened  with  what  he  termed 
'  Brescian  short  credit.'  The  appearance  of  Major  Weiss- 
priess  and  his  claim  to  the  command  created  a  violent  dis- 
cussion between  the  two  oihcers.  Weisspriess  succeeded 
in  establishing  his  ascendancy ;  upon  which  he  spoke  to  the 
prisoners,  telling  Cai-lo  that  for  his  wife's  sake  he  should  be 
free  on  the  morrow,  and  Angelo  that  he  must  expect  the  fate 
of  a  murderer.  His  address  to  them  was  deliberate,  and 
quite  courteous  :  he  expressed  himself  sorry  that  a  gallant 
gentleman  like  Angelo  Guidascarpi  should  merit  a  bloody 
grave,  but  so  it  was.  At  the  same  time  he  entreated  Count 
Ammiani  to  rely  on  his  determination  to  save  him.  Major 
!Nagen  did  not  stand  far  removed  from  them.  Carlo  turned 
to  him  and  repeated  the  words  of  Weisspriess ;  nor  could 
Angelo  resti-ain  his  cousin's  vehement  renunciation  of  hojie 
and  life  in  doing  this.  He  accused  Weisspriess  of  a  long 
evasion  of  a  brave  man's  obligation  to  repair  an  injury, 
charged  him  with  cowai-dice,  and  requested  Major  Nagen,  as 
a  man  of  honour,  to  diag  his  brother  officer  to  the  duel. 
Kagen  then  said  that  ]\Iajor  Weisspriess  was  his  superior  in 
the  command,  adding  that  his  gallant  brother  officer  had 
only  of  late  objected  to  vindicate  his  reputation  with  his 
sword.  Stung  finally  beyond  the  control  of  an  irritable 
temper,  Weisspriess  walked  out  of  sight  of  the  soldiery  with 
Carlo,  to  whom,  at  a  special  formal  request  fi-oni  Weisspriess, 
Kagen  handed  his  sword.  Again  he  begged  Count  Ammiani 
to  abstain  from  fighting ;  yea,  to  strike  him  and  disable  him, 


OOO  VlTTuiilA. 

and  fly,  rather  than  provoke  the  skill  of  his  right  hand. 
Carlo  demanded  his  cousin's  freedom.  It  was  denied  to  him, 
and  Carlo  claimed  his  privilege.  The  witnesses  of  the  duel 
were  Jenna  and  another  young  subaltern :  both  declared  i6 
fair  according  to  the  laws  of  honour,  when  their  stupefaction 
on  beholding  the  proud  swordsman  of  the  army  stretched 
lifeless  on  the  brown  leaves  of  the  past  year  left  them  with 
power  to  speak.  Thus  did  Carlo  slay  his  old  enemy  who 
would  have  served  as  his  friend.  A  shout  of  rescue  was 
heard  before  Carlo  had  yielded  up  his  weapon.  Four  hag- 
gard and  desperate  men,  headed  by  Barto  Rizzo,  burst  from 
an  ambush  on  the  guard  encircling  Angelo.  There,  with  one 
thought  of  saving  his  doomed  cousin  and  comrade,  Carlo 
rushed,  and  not  one  Italian  survived  the  fight. 

An  unarmed  spectator  upon  the  meadow-borders,  Beppo, 
had  but  obscure  glimpses  of  scenes  shifting  like  a  sky  in 
advance  of  hurri.^aae  winds. 

Merthyr  delivered  the  burden  of  death  to  Vittoria.  Her 
soul  had  crossed  the  darkness  of  the  river  of  death  in  that 
quiet  agony  preceding  the  revelation  of  her  Maker's  will, 
and  she  drew  her  dead  husband  to  her  bosom  and  kissed  him 
on  the  eyes  and  the  forehead,  not  as  one  who  had  quite  gone 
away  from  her,  but  as  one  who  lay  upon  another  shore 
whither  she  would  come.  The  manful  friend,  ever  by  her 
side,  saved  her  by  his  absolute  trust  in  her  fortitude  to  bear 
the  great  sorrow  undeceived,  and  to  walk  with  it  to  its  last 
resting-place  on  earth  unobstructed.  Clear  knowledge  of 
her,  the  issue  of  reverent  love,  enabled  him  to  read  her  un- 
equalled strength  of  nature,  and  to  rely  on  her  fidelity  to  her 
highest  mortal  duty  in  a  conflict  with  extreme  despair.  She 
lived  through  it  as  her  Italy  had  lived  through  the  hours 
which  brought  her  face  to  face  with  her  dearest  in  death ; 
and  she  also  on  the  day,  ten  years  later,  when  an  Emperor 
and  a  King  stood  beneath  the  vault  of  the  grand  Duomo,  and 
the  organ  and  a  peal  of  voices  rendered  thanks  to  Heaven  for 
liberty,  could  show  the  fruit  of  her  devotion  in  the  dark-eyed 
boy.  Carlo  Merthyr  Ammiani,  standing  between  Merthyr 
and  her,  with  old  blind  Agostino's  hands  upon  his  head. 
And  then  once  more,  and  but  for  once,  her  voice  was  heard 
in  Milan. 

THE  END. 


Mr.  George  Meredith  is  the  greatest  English  novelist  living;  he  is 
probably  the  greatest  novelist  of  our  time.  He  is  a  man  of  genius,  a 
literary  artist,  and  truly  a  great  writer.  —  The  Beacon. 


GEORGE  MEREDITH'S  NOVELS. 

TITLES. 

THE    ORDEAL    OF    RICHARD  RHODA     FLEMING. 

FEVEREL.  BEAUCHAMP'S    CAREER. 

EVAN    HARRINGTON.  THE    EGOIST. 

HARRY    RICHMOND.  DIANA   OF  THE    CROSSWAYS. 

SANDRA    BELLONI.  THE    SHAVING    OF    SHAGPAT. 
VITTORIA.  AND    FARINA. 


SOME    PRESS    NOTICES. 

Mr.  Meredith's  novels  are  an  intellectual  tonic.  They  are  the  great,  and  in- 
deed, we  may  say,  they  are  the  only  novels  of  any  living  author  which  deserve  to 
be  called  great.  They  will  take  the  same  hi;;h  and  permanent  rank  that  is  as- 
signed to  the  novels  of  George  Eliot  and  George  Sand.  They  are  deeper  in 
intellectual  power  than  Dickens,  while  they  have  less  of  his  dramatizations.  They 
are  an  intellectual  mine,  and  will  repay  careful  study.  —  Boston  Traveller. 

The  London  "Athenaeum''  says  of  "Diana  of  the  Crossways":  "It  is  a 
study  of  character,  and  it  is  also  a  study  of  emotion  ;  it  is  a  picture  of  fact  and  of 
the  world,  and  it  is  touched  with  generous  romance ;  it  is  rich  in  kindly  comedy, 
and  it  abounds  in  natural  passion  ;  it  sets  forth  a  selection  of  many  human  ele- 
ments, and  it  is  joyful  and  sorrowful,  wholesome  with  laughter  and  fruitful  of  tears 
as  life  itself." 

Mr.  Meredith's  novels  certainly  have  the  qualities  which  we  marked  as  essen- 
tial to  permanent  literature.  They  can  set  before  you  pictures  of  happy  love,  or 
of  youth  and  nature  that  can  never  be  forgotten  ;  scenes  that  flash  before  your 
eyes  when  your  thoughts  are  elsewhere.  .  .  .  Whoever  reads  Mr.  Meredith  does 
not  waste  his  time.  He  is  in  good  company,  among  gentlemen  and  ladies  ; 
above  all,  in  the  company  of  a    Genius. — Daily  Nezvs. 

Genius  of  a  truly  original  and  spontaneous  kind  shines  in  every  one  of  these 
books',  of  fancy  there  is  only  too  much,  perhaps;  with  healthy  benevolent  sym- 
pathy they  abound ;  and  if  there  exists  any  greater  master  of  his  native  tongue 
than  Mr.  Meredith,  we  have  yet  to  hear  ol  the  gentleman's  name.  — St.  yames^s 
Gcizette. 

It  was  not  until  1859,  when  he  had  reached  the  age  of  thirty-two,  that  he  pro- 
duced "  The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel,"  his  first  mature  novel,  charged  to  the 
brim  with  earnestness,  wit,  strength  of  conception.  Meredith's  stories  generally 
end  happily;  but  this  one  is  profoundly  tragic.  I  have  read  many  of  his  chapters 
without  being  moved,  even  when  the  situation  in  itself  must  theoretically  be  ac- 
knowledged an  affecting  one.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  heart  which  is  not 
touched,  and  the  eyes  that  do  not  become  moist,  in  the  reading  of  the  last  portions 
of  "  Richard  Feverel "  must  be  indurated  with  a  glaze  of  indifference  which  is 
not  to  be  envied.  —  G.   P.   Lath  hop,  in  Atlantic  Monthly. 


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GEORGE   SAND'S   NOVELS. 


The  excellence  of  George  Sand,  as  we  understand  it,  lies  in  her  compre- 
hension of  the  primitive  elements  of  mankind.  She  has  conquered  her 
way  into  the  human  heart ;  and  whether  it  is  at  peace  or  at  war  is  the  same 
to  her,  for  she  is  mistress  of  all  its  moods.  No  woman  before  ever  painted 
the  passions  and  the  emotions  with  such  force  and  fidelity,  and  with  such 
consummate  art.  Whatever  else  she  may  be,  she  is  always  an  artist.  — 
Putnam'' s  Magazine. 

Roberts  Brothers  propose  to  publish  a  series  of  translations  of  George 
Sand's  better  novels.  We  can  hardly  say  that  all  are  worth  appearing  in 
English  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  the  "  better  "  list  will  comprise  a  good  many 
which  are  worth  translating,  and  among  these  is  "  Mauprat,"  —  though  by 
no  means  the  best  of  them.  Written  to  show  the  possibility  of  constancy 
in  man,  a  love  inspired  before  and  continuing  through  marriage,  it  is  itself 
a  contradiction  to  a  good  many  of  the  popular  notions  respecting  the 
author,  —  who  is  generally  supposed  to  be  as  indifferent  to  the  sanctities 
of  the  marriage  relation  as  was  her  celebrated  ancestor,  Augustus  of 
Saxony.  .  .  .  The  translation  is  admirable.  It  is  seldom  that  one  reads 
such  good  English  in  a  work  translated  from  any  language.  —  Old  and 
New. 

MAUPRAT. 

ANTONIA. 

MONSIEUR    SYLVESTRE. 

THE    SNOW    MAN. 

THE    MILLER   OF   ANG-IBAULT. 

5  volumes,  i2mo.  Half  Russia.  Uniform  in  size  and  style 
with  "  Balzac's  Works." 

Price,  $1.50  per  Volume. 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers^  Publications. 

gALLADS  AND    POEMS 

OF  TRAGIC   LIFE. 

By  GEORGE    MEREDITH, 

AUTHOR    OF   "  RICHARD   FBVEREL,"   "  DIANA   OF  THE   CROSSWAYS,"   ETC. 

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The  "  Ballads  and  Poems  of  Trasiic  Life"  include  four  productions  that  are 
not  only  to  be  ranked  among  Mr.  Meredith's  best  work,  but  which  must  stand  in 
the  forefront  of  modern  poetical  literature.  These  are,  first,  the  ode  "  France, 
December,  1870,"  then  "The  Nuptials  of  Attila,"  and  then,  a  long  way  after 
either,  "The  Young  Princess,"  and  "  King  Harold's  Trance."  "The  Song  of 
Theolinda  "  is  also  of  noteworthy  power.  Of  all,  the  ode  to  France  is  supreme 
in  its  majesty,  its  wisdom,  its  grand,  sonorous  versification.  One  cannot  read  it, 
or  any  of  the  others  just  mentioned,  and  deny  that  Mr.  Meredith,  with  all  his 
eccentricities,  is  in  truth  a  poet  —  Literary  iVorld. 

Rich  in  language,  with  startling  flashes,  closely  condensed  in  thought,  full  of 
movement,  passion,  and  color,  these  ballads  and  poems  betray  the  same  genius 
that  the  novels  of  George  Meredith  reveal  to  the  world.  They  are  truly  tragic; 
the  horror,  the  pain,  the  woe,  is  worked  out  with  relentless  realism,  and  burned 
in  with  deep,  striking  reiterations.  Both  in  scope  of  conception  and  in  a  certain 
reckless  daring  in  the  use  of  language,  they  are  of  marvellous  power.  It  is  safe 
to  say  no  such  tragic  poems  have  ever  been  written  in  America,  nor,  during 
late  years  at  least,  in  England. —  Yale  Literary  Magazine. 

Browning  and  George  Meredith  go  well  together,  though  we  esteem  the  latter 
as  the  better  ballad  writer.  His  company  of  readers  is  choice,  but  sparse,  and 
yet  growing.  If  you  have  no  acquaintance  with  Meredith's  muse,  improve  the 
opportunity  presented  to  you  in  "  Ballads  and  Poems  of  Tragic  Life."  It  holds 
"  Phaethon,"  that  wonderful  attempt  in  the  Galliambic  measure.  —  Philadel- 
phia Press. 

Here  is  poetry  of  stem,  dramatic  quality,  heavy  in  respect  to  theme,  though 
the  handling  shows  delicacy  enough  of  touch  ;  masculine,  in  that  it  possesses 
more  force  and  strength  than  grace ;  but  above  all  it  is  deeply  earnest,  as  all  trag- 
edy must  be  to  be  real  and  impressive.  Without  exception  these  poems  deal 
with  the  sober,  mournful  side  of  life,  yet  they  somehow  escape  being  morbid. 
Perhaps  they  are  too  tragic  for  the  tastes  of  most  of  us,  the  meat  is  too  strong  ; 
but  it  is  wholesome  diet,  nevertheless,  which  fortifies  and  invigorates  the  moral 
man,  if  it  does  not  cheer.  —  iVashington  Capital. 


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BALZAC'S   PHILOSOPHICAL   NOVELS. 

♦ 

THE  MAGIC  SKIN.— LOUIS  LAMBERT. 
— ^^SERAPHITA.^E^ 

TRANSLATED    BY 

KATHARINE     PRESCOTT     WORMELEY. 

WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    TO  EACH   NOVEL    BY 
GEORGE    FREDERIC   PARSONS. 

[From  Le  Livre,  Revue  du  Monde  Litteraire,  Paris,  March,  1889.] 

There  are  men  so  great  that  humanity  passes  generations  of  existences  in 
measuring  them.  .  .  .  Certain  it  is  that  to-day  the  French  Academy  makes  Bal- 
zac's work  the  theme  fcir  its  prize  of  eloquence,  that  the  great  writer  is  translated 
and  commented  upon  in  foreign  countries,  and  that  in  Paris  and  even  at  Tours, 
his  native  place,  statues  are  in  process  of  being  erected  to  him.  .  .  .  But  the 
marble  of  M.  Chapus,  the  bronze  of  M.  Fournier,  —  Balzac  sad  or  Balzac  seated,  — 
are  of  little  consequence  to  the  glory  of  the  writer  standing  before  the  world,  who 
bore  a  world  in  his  brain  and  brought  it  forth,  who  was  at  once  the  Diderot  and 
the  Rabelais  of  this  century,  and  who,  above  and  beyond  their  fire,  their  imagina- 
tion, their  superaboundiug  life,  their  hilarious  spirit,  paradoxical  and  marvellously 
sagacious  as  it  was,  liad  in  the  highest  degree  the  mystical  gift  of  intuition,  and  is 
able,  beyond  all  others,  to  open  to  us  illimitable  vistas  of  the  Unseen. 

It  is  this  side  of  Balzac's  genius  which  at  the  present  time  attracts  and  pre- 
occupies foreign  critics.  Mile  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley  has  undertaken  to 
translate  the  "  Comedie  Humaine"  into  English.  She  has  already  published 
several  volumes  which  show  a  most  intelligent  sympathy  and  a  talent  that  is  both 
simple  and  vigorous.  Lately  she  translated  "  La  Peau  de  Chagrin  '*  ("  The  Magic 
Skin"),  and  now,  taking  another  step  into  the  esoteric  work  of  the  Master,  she  gives 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon  public  "'  Louis  Lambert."  But  she  does  not  venture  upon  this 
arduous  task  without  support.  Mr.  (ienrge  Frederic  Parsons  has  undertaken  in  a 
long  introduction  to  initiate  the  reader  into  the  meaning  hidden ,  or,  we  should  rather 
say,  encased,  in  the  psychologic  study  of  a  lofty  soul  which  ends  by  inspiring  mun- 
dane minds  with  respect  for  its  seeming  madness  and  a  deep  sense  of  the  Beyond. 
.  .  .  Many  critics,  and  several  noted  ones,  have  so  little  understood  the  real  mean- 
ing of  "  Louis  Lambert  "  and  "  Seraphita  "  that  they  have  wondered  why  the  au- 
thor gave  them  a  place  in  the  "  Comedie  Humaine,"  which,  nevertheless,  without 
them  would  be  a  temple  without  a  pediment,  as  M.  Taine  very  clearly  saw  and 
said.  Mr.  Parsons  takes  advantage  of  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  to  state  and 
prove  and  elucidate  this  truth.  The  commentary  may  be  thought  a  little  long,  a 
little  replete,  or  too  full  of  comparisons  and  erudite  reference;  but  all  senrms 
readers  who  follow  it  throughout  will  never  regret  that  they  have  thus  prepared 
themselves  to  understand  Balzac's  work.  We  call  the  attention  of  the  philosophi- 
cal and  theosophical  journals  to  this  powerful  study.  [Translated.] 


Handsome  T2mo  volumes;  bound  in  half  Russia,  French  style. 
Price,  $1.50  per  volume. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


:-^.. 


